


These Four Walls

by jinglejanglemorning



Category: Naruto
Genre: Angst, Awkward Romance, Dark, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Friendship, Haruno Sakura-centric, Healing, Hurt/Comfort, Mental Breakdown, Mental Health Issues, Minor Nara Shikamaru/Temari, POV Haruno Sakura, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Post-War, Romance, Slow Burn, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-03
Updated: 2020-10-27
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:07:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 30,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26270869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jinglejanglemorning/pseuds/jinglejanglemorning
Summary: A few months after the War, tragedy hits the Hidden Sand village. Gaara succumbs to the stress of his position and his mental health takes a downward turn. When he tries to commit suicide the village is at a loss for what to do - especially Temari, who is temporarily in charge. Following her appeal for foreign aid the Sixth Hokage sends his most trusted medic...Sakura works day after day in Konoha Hospital, broken-hearted, healing the war wounded. Will a change of scenery be just the thing she needs?Gaara sits day after day in a locked room, locked in his dark thoughts. Can a new approach guide back him to the light?A tale of lost souls and how they break down each others walls.(This is primarily a romance story but it does have some quite dark themes with mental health and suicide. Don't worry, I won't get too graphic with the suicide bits. TW nonetheless.)
Relationships: Gaara/Haruno Sakura, Nara Shikamaru/Temari
Comments: 32
Kudos: 86





	1. A Mission to Suna

**Temari**

It was hot in the main government building in Sunagakure. The windows were open but there was barely a breeze and the warm air was heavy. Although there was an empty seat at the round negotiating table, the council meeting had to go on anyway.

‘I’ve just got back from the Alliance session with the Konoha delegation,’ Temari said, ‘Shikamaru Nara is getting suspicious.’  
‘We can’t keep hiding it,’ the elder councilor said, ‘We have to do something.’  
‘We should choose an acting Kazekage,’ another agreed, ‘Temari?’  
‘I won’t agree to that,’ she replied, ‘Just give him time.’  
‘I knew it was a mistake appointing him,’ the elder propped his head on his elbow, ‘Given his past, this was inevitable.’  
‘I mean, do we even know if he’ll get better?’ another chimed in.

Kankuro said nothing. His purple makeup was slowly melting off his tense face. Temari argued a bit more, but it was pointless, the council had made up its mind. She was declared acting Kazekage. It was either her or Kankuro and her first brother was not suited to the role. He was too hot-headed for one, and he was busy with his duties in the puppet brigade. Still playing with his toys, at his age.

The decision had already been made. Temari left the room. She wasn’t suited to the role either, but the council had spoken. She would take up office the next day. She wasn’t happy about it. Even though it would have kept the sun off her face, she refused to accept the damn Kage hat.

* * *

At visiting hours, Temari sat opposite her brother at a table in the windowless room. Two guard ninja stood at the door. Apparently, he was still under constant supervision.

Gaara was wearing rough beige scrubs. No belt, no drawstrings. Bare feet. His hands – resting on the table in front of him – were in cuffs. Still, this was an improvement from last week when he’d been wearing a form of straitjacket reinforced with seals.

Talking to him was supposed to help. Familiar voices might get through to him, the medics said. She told him about her day, about her recent trip to Konoha, about being appointed acting Kazekage. His face was blank, hooded eyes vacant. It was like nothing registered. Gaara stared at the wall. He was looking at a few grains of sand swirling at the edge of the table. Temari’s eyes followed warily. There was no breeze. She kept talking, babbling almost, trying to break through. Still the grains eddied on the ledge, whirlpooling into a miniature sandstorm. They’d taken his gourd, but Gaara’s ultimate defense wasn’t legendary for nothing.

In a sharp movement, a wall of sand rose up, forming the shape of a hand. It lunged for one of the shinobi at the door, slicing his cheek, before dissipating into nothing. The guard, shaken, took a couple of moments to join his colleague in restraining Gaara. As soon as they touched the former Kazekage, he went limp in their arms, his eyes blinking repeatedly. They dragged his unresponsive body out of the room.

Temari sat for a while, watching the door they'd taken him through. Even the slightest improvement was significant. Yes, he’d probably earned himself another stint in the sealed straitjacket for that stunt, but if Gaara had wanted to, he could have killed both guards – and his sister – in seconds. The old Gaara would have done so without hesitating. Maybe he hadn’t regressed as far as the doctors thought.

It was top secret, need-to-know basis Suna intel. No one was quite sure how it had happened but Gaara had snapped. A few weeks after the end of the Great Ninja War, when the village was preparing for peacetime and continued co-operation with the Allied nations, Gaara had started behaving erratically. He’d never been one to get a good night’s sleep, but he was spending less and less time at home, rarely eating and neglecting his duties. He’d go missing for days – not even the scout squad could find him. He’d been seen wandering the streets late at night, muttering to himself, or falling out of bars drunk. A convoy returning to the village had found him once, miles out in the desert, dehydrated and disorientated.

Then one morning, Temari had gone to his office to deliver her daily report. He was hanging from the ceiling fan, his neck lolling at a horrible angle, his slumped body supported by his sand. She’d screamed and dropped the papers. Alerted to the noise, a genin team reporting for duty had barged into the office. Practically falling over themselves in their panic and reverence for their Kazekage-sama, they’d cut him down, loosening the noose round his neck. Sand flew round the room, knocking over furniture, and it wasn’t until she saw the blood splatter onto her dropped papers that Temari realised he’d killed the young squad with his sand coffin technique. Gaara had stared at her for a second, seeming perplexed by his surroundings – the bodies, the upturned table, the scattered documents and the blood on his hands and robes – before his eyes rolled back and he fell to the floor, unconscious. 

He was taken into the secret secure unit hidden away in the intelligence department’s extensive compound, normally reserved for the interrogation of high-profile enemy shinobi. It was only because of his position that he wasn’t flung straight into jail. He didn’t regain consciousness for days and when he did, he was _different._ He was non-verbal. His eyes were vacant, unseeing. He seemed unable to process information – or if he could, he lacked the capacity to react. He refused food and drink and his strong body withered, wasting away. He seemed to have given up entirely. Of course, he still possessed Kage level power and after a few unfortunate events involving his guards, more complex methods of restraint had to be put in place.

Still Temari and Kankuro visited whenever they could, speaking to him, playing music and telling old stories – anything to get him to snap out of it. 

None of it made sense. He didn’t have Shukaku in him anymore. He was the Kazekage, respected and adored by the village who had once shunned him. He was a war hero, for Sage’s sake – he’d been the commander-in-chief of the allied shinobi forces. Everyone remembered his heartfelt speech, his defeat of his re-animated father, his heroics saving Naruto – all the efforts he went to for his comrades and ideals. 

It was starting to make things difficult. The villagers were beginning to ask questions and the party line – that Gaara had been sent on a long-term diplomatic mission – wouldn’t hold out as an excuse for much longer. It wasn’t easy for Temari at the Allied nations meetings either. Her relationship with Shikamaru was in its tentative stages, and she didn’t want to start things off by hiding things. She was sure Shikamaru could help, but admitting that one’s Kage was incapacitated to foreigners hardly came easy to a ninja. Being declared acting Kazekage settled things though. She would have to tell Shikamaru – as both trusted colleague and boyfriend, it was important that he know.

* * *

‘And you didn’t tell me this sooner because?’ Shikamaru asked as he blew on his cup of tea. They were sitting in his apartment in central Konoha, and Temari had only opened up after checking behind the curtain and out on the balcony. His question was rhetorical though. Anyone knew that you didn’t just blurt out confidential village information unless you had the security clearance to do so.

‘And you’ve tried -?’ Shikamaru asked.  
‘We’ve tried everything,’ Temari interrupted, ‘Everything we could think of, at least…’

She buried her head in her hands, and for the first time since her brother’s breakdown allowed herself to shed tears over it. After everything, after such a difficult childhood, she had finally got the little brother she’d always wished Gaara could be. The Sand village had finally got the aspirational, just Kazekage the people deserved. Her father’s reign of terror was over, and she and her brothers were beginning to heal the wounds of Rasa’s neglect.

Shikamaru was a practical man, and a fair one. A different personality type would have perhaps tried to use the situation to his advantage – even as the allied nations adjusted to peacetime an extra chip at negotiating table would stand the Hokage’s right hand man in good stead. Instead, he sat and thought for a while.  
‘I take it this conversation doesn’t leave this room?’ he asked. Temari nodded.

‘Well, I have a couple of ideas. Since Tsunade stepped down as Hokage, she’s been working with the war wounded. There were a lot - I know it’s a shinobi’s life but this last war hit everyone hard. Anyway, it's not just physical injuries like broken legs and stuff - it's the trauma that can make people unbalanced and unpredictable.’  
‘Gaara’s seen so much death and destruction. Of course he's traumatised,’ Temari said sadly.  
‘The other idea, of course, is to think about the person who changed Gaara’s life in the first place,’ Shikamaru continued, ‘Who got him through all that hate and pain and stuff?’  
‘Naruto?’  
‘Yeah. These kind of missions are kind of an Uzumaki special.’ Shikamaru squeezed her hand. 

It wasn’t too hot in the main government building in Konoha, but it was more of that ghastly humidity Temari had come to associate with the Leaf village. While the dry heat of Suna was exhausting in its own, the stickiness of the air in Konoha and the film of sweat the heat left over her skin was even more unpleasant. She stood and sweated and spoke to the Hokage. Neither Shikamaru nor Kakashi Hatake seemed remotely bothered by the humidity.

‘Surely you have medical ninja in Suna? You wouldn’t have come all this way if that was the case, so I gather that the Kazekage’s illness is severe.’  
‘Yes, Hokage-sama. I fear that he cannot be cured without serious intervention,’  
‘Why do you think Naruto would be of help? He has no experience with medical ninjutsu.’  
‘He understands my brother better than I ever could.’  
‘The illness… it’s psychological?’ Kakashi said at last.  
‘He tried to commit suicide.’

Silence hung in the air while Kakashi appeared to contemplate the situation.  
‘I won’t be sending Naruto,’ he said at last. Temari’s face must have looked stricken because the Hokage laughed self-conciously, one hand reaching to scratch the back of his head. She scowled.  
‘I’ll do you one better,’ Kakashi steepled his fingers, elbows resting on his desk, ‘I’m going to send you an actual medic.’  
‘We’ve tried medics,’ Temari snapped.  
‘Not medics like this one,’ the Hokage said with a smile, ‘Besides, I think it’ll do her some good to get out of the village for a bit.’

That was how Temari, twenty minutes later, found herself standing next to Shikamaru as he knocked on Sakura Haruno’s front door. He knocked twice more before deciding to give it up as a bad job. They were just walking away when the door opened, just a crack.  
‘You woke me up,’ the woman said as she opened the door. She tightened her robe and eyed them suspiciously.

Temari had never particularly been friends with the pink-haired kunoichi. Crybaby Sakura, she’d called her. Apparently she was Lazybones Sakura as well. Even Shikamaru managed to drag himself out of bed some time before lunchtime.  
‘It’s midday,’ Temari said, already annoyed.  
‘I’ve been on nights,’ Sakura retorted, ‘At the hospital. You know, saving lives.’ She looked at the pair of them on her doorstep, and moved to close the door. ‘What do you want, anyway?’

Shikamaru, the mediator, raised his hands.  
‘Could we come in?’ he asked. Sakura shrugged and stifled a yawn. She stood back to let them through, ruffling her cropped pink hair. Temari stepped over discarded shoes in the entranceway and followed Shikamaru into Sakura’s kitchen. The apartment was poky, cramped, with dishes piled in the sink and hospital scrubs hanging out to dry. It wasn’t a place that felt homely or lived-in. It looked like Sakura only passed through to sleep and change her clothes. 

There were only two chairs, and Shikamaru offered her one, which Temari took with bad grace. Sakura slumped down in the other, so Temari found herself facing off with the Leaf girl. Both women scowled. Temari knew she was being difficult, but she couldn’t bring herself to be nicer. Why did the Hokage insist on sending her? Temari doubted there was anything Sakura could do that their own medics hadn’t tried.   
  
Hanging on the wall was an old team photo. Sakura, young and full-cheeked, stood grinning in the middle, flanked by the insufferable Uchiha, and the irritating little blond boy who would end up doing more for her brother than she ever could. Sakura didn’t have any other decorations, apart from a couple of half-dead plants. It was a sad-looking apartment. The air was sticky. If nothing else, Temari thought she would be delighted to be out of the Leaf village.

Shikamaru cleared his throat, and when it became apparent Sakura wasn’t about to offer them tea, Temari nodded for him to continue.  
‘The Hokage has a mission for you.’  
‘Well, Kakashi-sensei should go about assigning me this mission through the proper channels,’ Sakura said. Even to Temari’s unsympathetic ears, she sounded exhausted.  
‘It’s confidential. The Kazekage is unwell.’  
Ignoring Shikamaru, Sakura turned to Temari. ‘Do you not have medics in Sunagakure?’  
‘Of course we do. But do you think I’d be sitting here in this – ’ she gestured around – ‘ _place_ if it was something we could deal with?’

Sakura sighed. ‘Ok. What’s wrong with him?’ She held out her hand for the briefing notes, but neither Temari nor Shikamaru produced a scroll.  
‘It’s confidential,’ Temari said, at the exact same time as Shikamaru said,  
‘It’s psychological.’  
‘You’ll have to give me a bit more than that, I’m afraid,’ Sakura said. Neither of her guests offered any further information. They exchanged an awkward look, Shikamaru averting his eyes first. Sakura hid a slight smirk, which Temari took to mean that their act of 'just friends' wasn't fooling her. Damn. She would have to be more discreet if she didn't want the whole world to know about her relationship with Shikamaru. 

‘It’s all squared with the Hokage,’ Shikamaru said at last, embarrassed.  
Sakura exhaled heavily, blowing pink strands out of her face. Eventually, she nodded.  
‘Someone will have to water my plants,’ she muttered. Temari gave her a disdainful look as she got to her feet.   
‘Get some rest. We’ll leave at sundown, travel through the night. It’s cooler,’ she said. She turned back at the door and tried a smile, ‘And Sakura? Thank you.’

‘It’s just a mission,’ Sakura said at the door, ‘I’m not doing it for you.’ 

Temari had been expecting more resistance from the pink-haired medic. Sakura didn't seem like herself - not that Temari knew her well, but the Sakura she remembered was composed and self-assured. 

She seemed subdued. Wilted, like her sad, dead plants. 

* * *

**Sakura**

Crossing the Land of Fire and out into the desert with Temari was hardly Sakura’s idea of fun. It counted up there with back to back shifts at the hospital or walking Kakashi’s pack of semi-feral dogs, who all pulled on their leashes in different directions.

Bossy, cocky, condescending – she could think of plenty of ways to describe the Kazekage’s sister. But the obnoxious blonde was uncharacteristically quiet as they pushed on through the desert, towards the border with the Land of Wind. She kept a fast pace.

‘If you could just give me a quick briefing – ’ Sakura began.  
‘It’s classified, okay?’ Temari interrupted.  
‘I don’t know how you expect me to treat the patient if you won’t tell me his symptoms.’  
‘Look, you can make your assessments when we get there. Let’s get a move on.’

They continued in silence, only stopping for a few hours rest. Temari communicated in the fewest words possible as they ate their rations and set up camp. Sakura’s legs ached. She was used to long days on her feet at the hospital, but a hard run across the desert was a different story. She was hot, dusty and dehydrated. She felt like she’d never get the sand out of her shoes.

‘It must be bad if you need to rely on a medic from another village,’ Sakura commented.  
‘It is,’ Temari said in a tone that indicated the conversation was over. She kicked the fire out and shouldered her pack, not bothering to look back to check Sakura was following. Sakura scrambled after her, still eating.

Sakura wondered why she’d accepted the mission so readily. It wasn’t like she had anything planned, but she spent most of her time working, and her odd hours and constant tiredness meant she had no time for anything else. The pressure was constant at the hospital. Many of her patients had complex injuries from the war. Some were permanently disabled and two had died on her watch in the last week alone.

She was burned out, she knew that much. Shizune had been urging her to take a holiday but it was strange that Kakashi had sent her away. Was the life of a foreign Kage really worth so much more than the wounded from the Leaf? Or did he think she would enjoy building sandcastles out in the desert? If he really thought she needed a rest, she would have much preferred a trip to an Onsen spa.

After what seemed an age, the characteristic round buildings of the Hidden Sand village appeared on the horizon. The guards at the city gates bowed low when they saw Temari approaching. She barely acknowledged them, passing by the sentry box and picking up a scroll without looking at the chunin who handed it over. The guards looked at Sakura with interest, clocking her Konoha headband.

‘She’s with me,’ Temari informed them, in a tone that prohibited all gossip. They nodded, bowed again, and rushed to open the gates. Sakura followed Temari into the village and through the unfamiliar streets. They took a left turn onto what looked like a main avenue leading directly to the large building in the centre of the village.

‘You’ll be staying in my apartment. There’s plenty of room,’ Temari said as she led the way down a side street. ‘I’m hardly around, okay? I’ve been made acting fucking Kazekage. There aren’t enough hours in the day to get through all the shit I have to do.’

The apartment was spacious, with a bright balcony and pale cream furnishings. Sakura made some polite comments about Temari’s interior design that fell totally flat. The other kunoichi barricaded herself in the bathroom, leaving Sakura to admire the view from the balcony – the cloudless blue sky, the round buildings and the city walls that kept out the desert. Suna was nice but it wasn’t home.

Finally, Temari’s tough façade cracked. After her shower, she was ready to head straight back to work, leaving Sakura to rest by herself.  
‘Just… help him, okay?’ she said at the door, voice breaking. She stormed out, obviously too proud to let Sakura see her tears.

Sakura had no idea how she was supposed to help the Kazekage. She thought back to the chunin exams, when she’d first come across Gaara. He was murderously insane. He’d tried to kill her. He’d nearly succeeded in killing Rock Lee, taking their fight far too far. Might Guy had had to step in. And then, he’d broken into Lee’s hospital room and tried to kill him again. Earnest, gentle Lee, the genius of hard work, who had always carried a bit of a torch for her. He hadn’t deserved that. Then there’d been the match with Sasuke, when Gaara had crossed over from insane genin to threat to national security.

Maybe reminiscing about that particular fight wasn’t such a great idea. It wasn’t good for her to think about Sasuke. And how could she forget what he always called her? _Annoying_. Fuck that. Years of her life she’d dedicated to that guy, not that he’d been the slightest bit appreciative. She’d already decided she wasn’t going to cry another single tear over Sasuke Uchiha.

She threw her pack down on Temari’s sofa – where she presumed she would be sleeping – and slipped off her sandals. Her feet ached and her throat was parched. She made her way into the kitchen, where she filled a glass with water, drained it and filled it again, this time drinking more slowly.

She was sweaty from her journey. Before she took a shower she couldn’t resist peeping into Temari’s bedroom. She didn’t want to poke around the other girl’s private space, but she noticed an enormous stack of papers by the bed, and a few discarded items of clothing on the floor. The bedsheets were hastily straightened. Not that Sakura could judge. Her own apartment wasn’t exactly pristine. Maybe she and Temari were more alike than they thought – always putting work and others first, not taking time for themselves.

After her shower, she changed into her off duty dress, combed her hair in front of the mirror, then picked her way through the fridge. She wasn’t surprised to see it was practically empty and her stomach was growling. She shoved her dirty clothes in the washing machine and put her sandals back on.

She decided she would go out, find the nearest eatery, and treat herself to a large bowl of whatever the local Suna delicacy was. A cold beer might be nice too. Already picturing food, she swung the front door open – and collided with a large black and purple object.  
‘Oof,’ the object said and stepped back. Kankuro – Gaara and Temari’s brother was standing on the doorstep. He pulled down his hood and gave her a grin. His purple facepaint was as dramatic as she remembered, and he’d grown about half a foot since she’d last seen him.  
‘Hey,’ he said, ‘Temari told me to get you something to eat. And I thought, seeing as you saved my life that time, I’d treat you to a bit of a welcome banquet. You ready to go?’  
It seemed such a long time ago that she’d prepared the antidote to the poison from Sasori’s attack. Since then, she’d always been on good terms with Kankuro.  
‘That sounds great, actually. Let me just get my purse.’  
‘No need. My treat,’ he grinned, ‘Well, technically it’s the Kazekage’s official coffers’ treat.’

Twenty minutes later, they were sitting at a table at a rooftop restaurant, waiting for the obscenely large feast Kankuro had ordered for them. It was still baking hot out, despite the waning sun, but at least there was a breeze. Even Sakura had to admit, the view across the rooftops, of the sun setting on the endless desert was breathtaking. She could see for miles.

‘The sunsets are always beautiful this time of year,’ Kankuro said. The waiter arrived with two beers, crisp and ice cold. Sakura had to restrain herself from gulping hers.  
‘Gaara used to love coming here. He’d always get a green tea, sit at that table over there’ – he pointed – ‘with all his paperwork, when he got fed up of being in his office. Then I’d come and join him sometimes after I’d finished my duties, and we’d have a couple of beers and eat loads of delicious food.’

He turned away from her suddenly, and Sakura realized he was trying to hide just how upset he was. He reached for his beer and after a forceful swallow, he began to speak again.  
‘It’s so hard. When I was a kid, there was no-one in the world I hated more than Gaara. Our mother was dead because of him, I thought. He ruined our family, he killed loads of my friends – and he broke all my toy puppets!’   
They laughed. ‘Obviously, you were most upset about the puppets, right?’ Sakura teased.  
‘Of course. Puppetry is a big thing in Suna,’ he said with a wink. ‘Anyway, after he became friends with Naruto, Gaara completely changed. He was a different person. It was like all he needed was a little love.’

When the waiter came back with their food, Sakura saw he hadn’t been kidding when he promised her a banquet. The table was practically groaning under the weight of all the different dishes, most of which she hadn’t seen before.

‘Naruto can have that effect on people,’ she said, sampling a few of the plates.  
‘Careful that’s – ’ Kankuro started, as she shoveled a large helping of green curry into her mouth. As she chewed it felt like her toungue was burning; the curry was so hot it was almost painful.  
‘Spicy,’ he finished with a wince.  
‘No kidding!’ Sakura gasped. She chugged half her beer trying to put out the fire in her mouth. Kankuro immediately signaled to the waiter for another drink for her.

‘I know Temari has been a bit short with you, but she’ll come round,’ he said, ‘She’s just… Well, she went to Konoha to get Naruto, so I guess she’s pissed off the Hokage sent you instead. It already took a lot for her to admit weakness to another village.’  
‘Naruto is one of my best friends. I understand his tactics pretty well. Besides, I am actually a medic.   
‘Naruto’s a lot of people’s best friend,’ Kankuro said, and Sakura was surprised at his perspicacity. He offered her the bowl of curry again, but she refused, opting instead for some salty dried meats that Kankuro assured her were Gaara’s favourite.

‘Anyway, I don’t see why she’s so upset,’ she continued, ‘It gave her an opportunity to see Shikamaru.’  
‘She told you about that?’ Kankuro asked, surprised.  
‘No, but it’s kind of obvious. The worst thing about it, is that they think they’re being discrete.’  
Kankuro smirked into his plate.

‘Do me a favour? Stop wearing that thing,’ he said after a pause.  
That thing? Sakura practically spluttered. That thing was her ninja headband, her pride and joy, the item that signaled her rank as a jonin of the Leaf village for all to see.  
‘You’re pretty famous. You’re the student of two Hokages and Naruto’s teammate, so most people have some idea who you are. They know you’re an incredibly skilled medic, they know the Kazekage is absent – eventually someone’s going to put two and two together.’  
‘You mean you haven’t told the people that he’s ill?’  
‘Not even the jonins know,’ Kankuro said ruefully, ‘We – the council – decided to keep it as quiet as possible.’  
‘Kankuro, what is wrong with your brother? Temari said it was psychological.’

Kankuro nodded but wouldn’t say anything more on the subject. Sakura agreed to draw her own conclusions once she’d examined him. Instead he told her at great length about the amusing errors of his genin in the puppet brigade. They finished their meal in good natured company. He offered her another beer but she declined, too tired to stay out late. She needed a good night’s sleep in order to be fresh for the morning. Especially as she had no idea what she was working with.

It was still hot when Kankuro walked her home, even an hour after sundown. They were an interesting family, she mused: Temari aloof and guarded, Kankuro affable and Gaara – well she would see about Gaara in the morning.  
‘Temari?’ she called out, when she got back to the apartment. There was no answer, so Sakura got ready for bed and curled up on the sofa, fatigued after her long day. As she drifted off to sleep she couldn’t help but notice how quiet it was without the cicadas of Konoha.

She was exhausted and alone – but that was nothing new. Even after a pleasant meal out with an old friend, Sakura still felt hollow. As the desert winds picked up and the temperature dropped she felt very far from home.


	2. A Meeting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now we delve a little more into the sibling dynamics, and get our first look at Gaara in distress. Poor thing. Can Sakura help? Read on to find out!

**Sakura**

The sun was streaming in through the windows, and though it was early morning, it was already getting hot. Sakura had slept poorly – always the same dreams. The bodies. The noise. The carnage.

She woke up, disorientated, to the sound of Temari in the kitchen. The other girl hadn’t been home when Sakura had fallen asleep, yet she was already up and making breakfast before her.  
‘I was just about to wake you,’ Temari said, with a hint of a smile. ‘Breakfast is nearly ready.’

Whatever she was cooking certainly smelled good. Sakura could hear the hiss of the frying pan as she helped herself to coffee and was not disappointed when Temari handed her a plate.  
‘I’ve made plenty. I thought you could take the rest with you, to eat for lunch with Gaara.’  
Temari was trying to be nice and Sakura appreciated the effort. She was probably under a lot of pressure, fulfilling Kazekage duties as well as having to deal with the stress of Gaara’s illness. Maybe that was why she’d been so rude the last couple of days.

About half an hour later, Sakura followed Temari through the streets of Sunagakure, on their way to work. Sakura had taken Kankuro’s advice about ditching her headband, but she needn’t have worried. Nobody spared her a second glance. Or rather, they saw her with Temari and didn’t dare look twice.

Sakura tried to walk in with no expectations, but the facility where Gaara was being kept more closely ressembled a torture and interrogation unit than a hospital. She should have expected as much. Judging by the fact that she’d been called in, it was a complex case and Gaara was a powerful shinobi. Of course he was dangerous.  
‘This is where I’ll leave you,’ Temari said, after introducing her to a member of the interrogation squad. ‘I’ll pick you up later and you can give me your report.’

The tokubetsu jonin in charge nodded to Temari, then gestured to Sakura to follow him. Patently, he was a man of few words, and her attempts to engage him in conversation as he led her through the intelligence division were unsuccessful. At least he wasn’t a blabbermouth, she mused as she followed him in silence down the labyrinthine corridors, leading deeper and deeper underground.

Even far from the sunlight it was hot and the further they walked, Sakura had the impression the passageways were becoming narrower and shallower, their walls closing in on her. She had no sense of her bearings. They could be mere feet below ground level or far deeper, and with all the turns she had no idea if they were under the village centre or out in the desert. It was designed to confuse. If any torture subjects (or mentally-ill Kazekages) made a bid for freedom, they would be easily apprehended.

After what she’d calculated to be about half a kilometre, her guide came to a halt and rang for attention at a reinforced steel door. There was a short pause while she heard an inner door being unlocked, before the main door swung open, revealing a small anteroom and a sturdy ninja in a standard Suna flak jacket. Once inside the unit, he introduced himself as Kenta. He had wide eyes and a fresh scar on his face. The silent shinobi who had accompanied her down turned out to be called Ryo.

Inside the unit there was an open plan space clearly for staff use, and two metal doors. One set of doors led to the cells; the other into an interrogation room painted all in white, with tables and chairs nailed to the floor, and a series of chains on the back wall. It was a brutal layout, designed for extracting information from prisoners in the most efficient way. Sakura suppressed a shudder.

It must be bad if this was where they were keeping him. So far underground, away from the sunlight. Where nobody would ever hear the screams.

‘We don’t know how he’ll react to a new visitor, so we’ll be taking extra precautions,’ Kenta said, ‘If you prefer, you can observe him a while before you enter. We’ll bring him in when you’re ready.’

Sakura sat in the staff area, where she had a good view of the reinforced glass window into the interrogation room. She skimmed his medical notes, vowing to go through the file in depth later. It didn’t make for pleasant reading. There were numerous incidents logged: altercations with his guards, attempts at self-harm, attacking visitors. The furniture in the interrogation room was designed to be solid, but Gaara had still managed to break a table. What was interesting about the write-ups was that each one specified that no words had been spoken. He lashed out, he tried to hurt himself, he caused destruction. But he didn’t speak.

She nodded to Kenta, who picked up a bunch of keys and opened the cells’ door, Ryo following. They locked the door behind them again, sliding the bolts back across. Sakura watched as they brought him into the interrogation room. It was hard to believe that the stooped figure between the two guards was really Gaara. If it hadn’t been for his red hair, Sakura would have barely recognized him. She remembered him as strong, with good posture and a lean, muscular frame. Looking at him through the reinforced window, she could tell he’d lost a significant amount of weight. He fought against the wall chains, giving his guards a hard job.

Once the chains were secured, Kenta and Ryo joined her in the observation area.  
‘We normally sit him at the table, but last time his sister was here….’ Kenta pointed at the wound on his face, ‘Well…’

As she stood observing, Gaara thrashed against his restraints. The tendons in his neck were visible as he strained. Even through his baggy clothes she could see he was skin and bone. Despite his emaciated frame, he clearly had enough strength left in him to put up a fight.  
‘Better give him a moment to calm down,’ Kenta said, standing next to Sakura as she watched in horror. ‘He’s tends to be a bit feisty when we first bring him out.’  
‘Is he always like this?’ she asked.  
‘He’s generally calm in his cell. Sometimes he fights, but often he just lies there.’

Sakura sighed. It seemed she had her work cut out for her. Not only was the patient in a far worse state than she’d anticipated, she also had a couple of welfare concerns. He couldn’t be expected to make a recovery if he was being kept in poor conditions.  
‘May I see his cell?’

Kenta obliged, leading her down the corridor. There were five cells in total, all identical, and Gaara had been given the nearest one, presumably to be as close to the staff as possible in the event of an emergency. That itself was promising. If they were truly frightened and unwilling to help him, they would have put him at the far end.

His cell was small, but not cramped. There was a single bunk against the wall, with a folded blanket on top. Behind a panel there was a rudimentary toilet and sink. The space was clean, but there were marks and gouges all down the stone walls. She couldn’t tell if they were fresh, or made by previous occupants. Satisfied they weren’t keeping him in squalor, she headed back to her notes in the staff area. Ryo was sitting at the table doing a puzzle, chewing on the end of his pen.

‘When did the patient last have a meal?’  
‘He’s been refusing to eat,’ Kenta said, ‘Our attempts at feeding him have been …unsuccessful.’ The poor man sounded like he’d been on the receiving end of most of Gaara’s displays of bad temper.  
‘What about water?’  
‘We have to use paper cups. Most of the time he’ll either ignore it or throw it.’  
Come to think of it, there had been a small puddle in the cell. He would have to eat eventually, but Sakura decided against Temari’s idea of sharing her food with him, like they were having a tea party.

After a while, things quietened down and Gaara stood despondent and dejected, limp in his chains. She was briefly overcome with pity. He had fallen so far.  
‘Would you like to go in? He’s restrained, but I can’t guarantee…’

Sakura assessed the situation. Cornered animals tended to lash out. On the other hand, he didn’t have his gourd, he was malnourished, and hardly in a fit state for a fight. Being honest about her abilities and seeing the Kazekage’s current state of health, she reckoned she could take him down with a punch if necessary. Still, she’d prefer to avoid slamming him through several layers of wall. Temari wouldn’t be best pleased. So far secluded, he wouldn’t have access to enough sand to cause serious damage. But they were in a desert, there was sand everywhere. She remembered Might Gai intervening in the chunin exams before Gaara could kill Lee. He’d slapped the sand away. She could do that, easily.

‘Yeah. I’ll go in,’ she said, and snapped on her gloves.  
‘We’ll have your back – the first sign of trouble we’ll get you out of there.’

Gaara jerked his head up at the sound of the door being unlocked.  
‘Kazekage-sama? You’ve got a visitor,’ Kenta said, in a forced bright voice. ‘This is Sakura. You’ve met Sakura before, do you remember? She’s come all the way from Konoha to see you. Are you going to behave nicely for her?’  
For one brief second she sympathized totally with Gaara. If Kenta went around talking to him like he was a pathetic lost puppy, no wonder Gaara got angry.

Sakura took two steps into the room, keeping her distance. Gaara stared at her with bloodshot eyes. Up close, he looked even worse. His hair hung in limp strands round his face. His pale skin was almost translucent. His eyes - she remembered them being blue or green – were dull and grey, his cheeks hollow and his bones protruding.

She met his gaze, though she was unsure whether he was seeing. He blinked rapidly.  
‘Gaara?’ she said and braved a step closer. As soon as she moved, Gaara seemed agitated again. Beads of sweat formed on his forehead as he thrashed once more. From nowhere, a stream of sand rose up. Concentrating chakra in her fist, Sakura knocked it away.

But she was too slow. The sand caught around her hand, encasing it painfully until she heard a crunch. She cried out in pain and the sand fell immediately, disappearing as quickly as it had risen. Swearing, she backed off, clutching her injured hand to her chest. Kenta pulled her back through the door.  
‘He obviously likes you!’ he joked as he locked the door again. ‘Honestly, that wasn’t bad for a first visit. He could have gone for your neck.’  
Sakura examined the crushed bones. It was nothing that she couldn’t easily treat herself and once she’d finished she wrapped a bandage round it to hold the freshly-healed bones in place.  
‘He does seem a little sensitive,’ she said, though she had expected him to attack her.  
‘What do you want to do? Do you want to give him some time to cool off, or should we confine him to quarters for the rest of the day?’

Sakura weighed up her options. She’d been slow and careless – it was her own mistakes that had got her injured. She could heal minor injuries in seconds, and the amount of sand he had access to wouldn’t be enough to do any lasting damage. If things got bad, she had her Byakagou seal. She motioned for Kenta to open the door again. This time, she kept her distance and said nothing. She just stood with her back to the door and waited for Gaara to calm down.

All his struggling had rubbed his wrists raw from the metal cuffs. The skin was inflamed, and his left hand was bleeding, the blood dripping down the leg of his scrubs and onto the white painted floor. Gaara froze when he saw the bloodstains, just momentarily. Then the sight of blood sent him wild.

He leant his head back, banging it repeatedly on the wall behind him. Sand rushed up to protect him. Sakura stood stock still, until the sand haloing round his head reformed into the shape of a spear.

The projectile crossed the room at great speed and Sakura smacked it away with her good hand. The sand took its shape once more and caught her on the upper arm, slicing it open. Blood trickled down her arm and soaked her elbow protector. Gaara paused, shocked. Sakura stood firm. She wasn’t sure if he was deliberately sending the sand to attack, or if it was a subconscious action to protect himself. Again and again the sand rose to hit her, and she kept on blocking it, forcing it back. She was getting better at dodging the streams and predicting which way they would come back from after she’d smacked them away. She used as little force as possible just to prevent herself from being injured.

After about half an hour of fending off sand, Sakura had had enough. As well as the slice to her upper arm, she’d been caught twice more on her shoulder, her ribs and again just above her knee. The wounds were superficial, but they had bled a lot, and she had rips in her clothing.

Still, a mission was a mission. She flopped down in a chair back in the staff area and healed her cuts, while Kenta expressed his admiration for her tenacity. Even the normally silent Ryo threw in a word of praise.

‘Isn’t it cruel to keep him chained up for so long?’ she said, once she’d recovered a bit. Since she’d left the interrogation room, Gaara continued to flail for a while, before falling still, his body sagging forward.  
‘If we didn’t use the chains, you’d likely be dead,’ Kenta said, ‘We’ll put him back in his cell for a bit. It looks like he could use a rest.’

Sakura took out the lunch Temari had prepared for her. There was far too much, even for two people. Even though Gaara was far from in a fit state to eat with her, she dished out a portion on a metal plate. Before the guards could escort him back, she left his meal in his cell for him. When Kenta and Ryo came to take him back to quarters, it was like all the life force had drained out of him. His head lolled to the side and his feet dragged as the two men supported him, half carrying him out of the room.

Sakura sat down and ate in silence. It was tiring work, dodging the sand. She began to understand Temari’s desperation and her last resort of bringing in foreign aid. Clearly, none of the Suna medics had been able to do anything for him – especially if his sand kept attacking them.

It was pitieous really. He was the Kazekage, and they were keeping him in the interrogation department like a criminal. She knew the real Gaara – if he was still in there, would abhor to be in such a position. He would have done anything for the good of his village, and now he had to be locked away because he was a danger to the public.

Sakura had some time to read his notes and compile her preliminary report before Temari was due to come by. The catalyst seemed to have been his suicide attempt. He’d tried to hang himself in his office one day. According to the notes, his sand had prevented him from falling, but three genin had lost their lives trying to save him. Since then, there’d been multiple incidents but mercifully, no further fatalities.

The first positive Sakura noted was that he didn’t seem to have incurred brain damage. He was still alert and perceptive, just locked into his trauma. Out of curiosity, she peeked through the window in his cell door. He was sitting on his bunk, listlessly facing the wall. He hadn’t noticed her standing there, or if he had he didn’t react at all. She stood for a moment, watching the steady rise and fall of his chest as he breathed.

The plate she’d left for him was upturned, the food spilled into a wet splodge. When she told Kenta about it, he sighed and fetched a mop.  
‘He doesn’t hurt you,’ she said when Kenta had finished cleaning.  
‘Oh, believe me, he tried. But after a while he seemed to accept me. Now he only goes for me when he’s really upset. That’s why it’s just me and Ryo that work with him down here. He trusts us a bit, I think. It’s what gives me hope….’  
Kenta faltered, trailing off. Sakura noticed it was a bit of a habit of his. ‘It gives me hope that he’s still in there, the real him. That he’ll get better,’ he finished.

Sakura made no promises. They passed the afternoon in silence, her reading Gaara’s notes, and the two guards playing shogi. When Temari came to pick her up, Sakrua was delighted to go above ground again. Even though she’d only been down for a day, she missed sunlight.

‘What happened to your hand?’ Temari demanded as they walked. She grabbed Sakura by the wrist.  
‘I believe it’s called a sand coffin,’ Sakura said. Temari turned her hand over, roughly examining her bandages. ‘Ow, do you mind? I just set those bones.’  
‘He must have given you a hard time.’ Temari looked her up and down, eyes lingering on the rips and bloodstains on her clothing.  
‘Nothing I can’t handle,’ Sakura said stiffly, and handed over her report.

It felt amazing to be out in the sunshine and fresh air. It must be horrible for Gaara to be trapped underground all the time. Sakura wondered what was going on in his head, if he realised where he was and what was happening. Temari read through the notes Sakura had written.   
‘You’re not very optimistic, are you?’ she said, but her tone made it sound like an accusation.   
‘Just realistic,’ Sakura said, ‘He’s in quite a bad state. Malnourished, violent, uncommunicative… It’s not going to be easy.’  
‘The Hokage said you were the best,’ Temari continued in the same accusatory tone.   
‘Yes. But I can’t promise change overnight.’  
‘I suppose not,’ Temari sighed, ‘Look, go back to the apartment and rest. I’ll be home later – I’ll bring takeout, if that’s okay?’  
‘Sounds great.’ Sakura peeled off down the side street, leaving Temari walking briskly towards the Kazekage office. Sakura wondered if she ever took that stick out of her ass.

Back in the apartment, she stripped and examined the cuts on her body. She’d fixed up her wounds pretty well, but they still felt tender and sore. In a day or so she’d no doubt be covered in bruises. After she’d showered and dressed, she wondered what to do with her ripped clothes. If her encounters with Gaara were going to continue like they had, she would be needing a whole new wardrobe soon. She looked at her ruined elbow protector and considered throwing it away. She’d never get the bloodstain out of the pale pink fabric.

As she waited for her clothes to wash, she sat out on the balcony and watched the sun set over the desert. By the time Temari entered, long after dark and carrying a steaming back of food, Sakura had begun to formulate a plan.

* * *

The first step was to get him to trust her enough to stop attacking her. She knew it was possible because he had eventually stopped attacking Kenta and Ryo, although that had apparently taken weeks. She had a long road ahead of her – several more intense sessions fending off sand. On the second day, she stayed in the interrogation room with the patient for as long as she could stand. She took breaks when she was getting tired and sloppy with her defences, stopping to heal her numerous wounds.

A mission was a mission, and Sakura was professional. Still, it was frustrating to put so much effort into something, only to be constantly attacked. She felt like her efforts amounted to nothing. She wondered if she was just throwing herself into work to fill the emptiness she felt – just like she had done back home in Konoha. It turned out that she couldn’t run from her feelings. Neither the hot desert sun, nor the constant assaults from her patient could burn them away. Distractions were temporary.

On a personal level, Gaara was difficult. Even though he’d changed since meeting Naruto, she hadn’t forgotten the fear she’d felt facing off with him at the chunin exams. It was hard to like someone who caused you pain, but deep down Sakura thought she was a masochist. Even after all the pain Sasuke had caused her, she still went back for more. It was insanity to do the same thing over and over and expect different results, she knew that now. Still, stuck out in the desert with an unfriendly roommate and a dangerously insane patient for company, she felt more alone than ever.

By the fifth day, she looked like she’d just stumbled off a battlefield. She felt like she was getting nowhere. Gaara sent sand flying her way each time she entered. Then, finally, it happened. A breakthrough. As she stepped back into the room after healing another cut on her leg, Gaara was still.

He didn’t struggle.  
He didn’t fight.  
Slowly, he raised his head and looked up at her.

Sakura froze, startled. As he fixed her with his eyes, she had the fleeting impression of the ocean on a calm day, perfectly still and clear, of palest turquoise. She had misremembered. They were neither blue, nor green – the colour was unusual, and his gaze was powerful. She stood for a moment, transfixed by their strange beauty.

Before, she’d doubted whether she really was up to the task of healing him. But she’d seen intelligence and strength in those eyes. In that small moment of connection, she realized she wasn’t about to give in to self-doubt. Gaara could be cured. And she would be the one to do it.

She stood with her back against the door and observed. He didn’t attack her again, he just hung limp in his chains, the fight out of him. When Kenta and Ryo came to escort him back to his cell, he followed dociley, watching her as he went.

* * *

‘Wow. You look like shit.’ It was Kankurou, rather than Temari who came to pick her up that afternoon. He was grinning and full of adrenaline. He’d recently returned from a mission but had stopped for a shower, his hair still damp. The opposite of Sakura, who was sweaty and sandy after a day’s work. She looked down at herself, all bruises, bloodstains and ripped clothing.

‘I suppose I do a bit. I was hoping you could take me clothes shopping?’  
‘Do I really have to? Can’t you ask Temari?’  
Sakura made a face. ‘I need a new dress or something. I have no idea where the best shops are, or what’s a good price.’  
Kankurou sighed, but he was naturally good natured.  
‘The Kazekage’s official account will have you outfitted in the finest silks. Nothing but the latest fashions for the Kazekage’s personal medic.’  
‘Really?’ Sakura asked, surprised.  
‘Of course not, silly. You’ll wear plain clothes like the rest of us.’

Kankurou led her out of the unit and towards a bustling market street, chatting.  
‘So how is he, then? When he’s better I’m really going to have to go after him for roughing you up like that. Look at the state of you! And you’re a medic, so I know you’ve healed the worst of it.’

When he’s better... Like he was trying to convince himself. Temari wasn’t the only one who was dealing with it badly.

‘Progress is…. slow,’ Sakura said. They stopped at a stall, where he bought her dango, and she told him about her breakthrough with Gaara as they sipped green tea.  
‘That’s it? He looked at you. It’s not the most promising sign, is it?’ Kankurou rolled his eyes.  
‘It’s something. The other day he broke my hand.’  
‘I’d get settled in, girl. It looks like you’re going to be in Sunagakure for a while.’  
‘What were you actually expecting when you sent for aid from the Hokage? That Naruto would come and knock some sense into him by lunchtime and he’d immediately be fit for duty? Back in his office the next day, all diplomatic and dignified again?’ Sakura said with an eye roll of her own.

‘Hey, sending for Naruto was Temari’s idea, not mine. I was hoping for you all along.’ He winked.  
‘Very charming.’ She swatted him on the back of the head as he ducked under the awning of the clothes market. It was huge and bustling, the stalls doing a roaring trade. Even though Kankurou told her not to worry about the price tags, Sakura found it difficult. Women in Sunagakure patently dressed differently to what she was used to. After sifting through endless racks of ponchos, she found herself two dresses, a tunic and a skirt.

She stopped in front of a stand selling sets of men’s pyjamas. She reached out to touch the fabric. It was plain weave cotton, soft to the touch. On a whim, she chose two pairs – one black, one maroon. She remembered Gaara wearing maroon. It suited him. They were nothing fancy, but it had to be better than prisoners scrubs they had him in. She added them to the pile of clothing Kankurou was carrying for her.

‘I can tell why you’re a medic,’ Kankurou said as they moved on to the next stall, ‘You’re very kind.’  
Sakura denied it modestly as she picked through the racks, looking for a cloak. When she'd decided, Kankurou chose one for himself as well. 

‘Most people wouldn’t spend their money buying fancy pyjamas for prisoners who beat them bloody.’  
‘He’s not a prisoner and it’s not my money.’ She stuck her toungue out. ‘Do you think the Kazekage’s official account will stretch to a couple of books?’

Kankurou led her into a bookseller’s stand.  
‘What kind of stories does your brother like?’  
‘I’ve no idea.’  
‘Does he read?’  
‘Yeah, sometimes. When he’s not working he’d usually have a book on the go, I think.’  
‘What, and you never asked him about it?’  
‘I might not be Kazekage but I do actually have a job, Sakura. I had a lot more important things to think about than what book my brother was reading.’

Kankurou moved to the other side of the store and Sakura realized she was being insensitive. Of course he would be kicking himself for not spending time with Gaara, not involving himself more in his interests. It was the kind of thing that was taken for granted – that there’d always be time for discussing the minutae. She was just about to apologise when he came back, waggling a copy of an Icha Icha book.

‘Hey, isn’t this a pretty big deal in Konoha?’  
‘Yeah, but it’s dirty. I can’t read that aloud, I’d die of embarrassment.’  
‘You’re going to read him stories? You’re buying him pyjamas and reading him stories? What’s next, a teddy?’ Kankurou dissolved into a fit of giggles that he insisted could only be cured by stopping for a drink at the rooftop bar.

* * *

Even after spending time at the market and bar after work, Sakura was home long before Temari. She hung her clothes out to dry and swept the living room, then sat down to skim the first chapter of the book she’d bought.

‘Do you ever cook?’ she asked when Temari appeared with takeout again.  
‘You think I have time to cook? I’m lucky if I get a decent breakfast, let alone dinner.’ Her voice had taken on a shrill note, ‘Why the hell are you wearing my dress, by the way?’

Sakura looked down at the outfit she’d just bought. ‘I got it in the market earlier. All my other clothes got ripped fighting off sand, so Kankurou took me shopping.’  
‘Yes, I’m sure he’s being very hospitable – spending Gaara’s salary on clothes and beer. He was swanning around in some fancy new cloak earlier, and you're encouraging him!’   
She slammed her plate down and stormed off into the kitchen. Sakura sat back and wondered if she’d ever be able to say something that didn’t offend Temari in some way. Conversation apparently finished for the evening, Temari shut herself in her bedroom without a further word.

They were dealing with it very differently, she mused. Kankurou was in denial, keeping busy and laughing things off as much as he could. Temari was bearing the brunt of the stress, uptight and silent, throwing herself into work. A strange trio. Having none herself, sibling dynamics always interested her. 

She laid on the sofa and read a few more pages. The plot of the novel was dull and her eyelids grew heavy….

…The bodies. The screams. The sickening sound of bones crunching, of steel slicing through skin, the blood on her hands, the exhaustion, the sound of the dying. She was shaking, losing control… she had to work faster, more and more were coming, each more injured than the last. Each face filling her mind, distorted with pain. Suffering and screaming and wretched…

She lurched forward, gasping. The book fell to the floor and Temari’s apartment came back into focus. A dream. It was a dream. Just a dream. Adrenaline pumping, she got up for a glass of water and waited until her heartbeat slowed. She cleared her mind, trying to relax, and pictured drifting on a calm ocean – pale turquoise, deep and clear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed :D 
> 
> I alway seem to write super long chapters.


	3. A Broken Hand

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another super long chapter for you :D

**Sakura**

Sakura got lost in the labyrinth of tunnels leading to the interrogation unit. Even after a week of working in the department she still didn’t know the way. Frustrated, she retraced her steps back to the entrance, where Kenta was waiting for her with a newspaper under his arm and a cup holder with three coffees.

‘Take a wrong turn, did you?’ he asked, ‘It’s a maze down there, took me weeks to get used to it.’

He handed her one of the coffees with a grin. The gash on his face was healing, the new skin pink and raised. It was a testament to his character, Sakura thought, that he was so overwhelmingly positive about working with someone who continued to injure him. Others might have let resentment or anger grow. Even medics weren’t immune to disliking violent patients, and Kenta was just a guard.

‘Do you not sleep in the unit?’ she asked.  
‘Depends who’s shift it is. Ryo and I do alternate nights, that way there’s always one person on duty overnight. If you want, we can put you on the rota. My wife would love to see more of me.’

Sakura opened her mouth to protest, but he quickly reassured her he was joking. Sort of. As they began the walk down, she filled him in on her latest plan. If she could get the patient used to her presence by just sitting in the room with him, then she could build it from there.

* * *

Gaara hung limp in the wall chains, and when she entered the room he didn’t acknowledge her. No rush of sand, not even a glance upwards. He just stood, lolling forwards, his body supported by his restraints. If it wasn’t for the chains, he would surely have collapsed on the floor.

Sakura stepped forward to examine him. Still nothing. For a brief moment, she wondered if he was asleep – Gaara was famous for his erratic sleeping pattern – but his eyes were open, glassy and unfocused.

‘Good morning, Gaara,’ she said, her voice quiet, ‘I hope you slept well.’

It was a polite greeting, but a stupid thing to say. Of course he hadn’t slept well. If he was the type to sleep well, she highly doubted they would be in this situation.

Gaara flinched slightly at the sound of her voice, but after his initial surprise, he remained unresponsive. Sakura took it as a good omen to continue.

‘Temari has been looking after me well,’ – she lied – ‘And Kankurou has been very kind. Your brother and sister are very worried about you. The whole village is worried about you. That’s why I’m here.’

She kept her voice soft and even, putting on her best bedside manner.  
‘Your brother said you liked to read. So I’ve bought you a book. I thought we might read it together.’  
She spoke in simple sentences, pausing after each phrase, hoping for a positive reaction.  
‘Let’s start with chapter one, shall we?’

Gaara was quiet and still as Sakura sat down on the floor, her back resting on the opposite wall, and began to read aloud. The story was boring but cute, about a lonely man who got a pet dog. She had no idea if Gaara was actually listening to her, but it was a huge improvement from being attacked.

Eventually even Sakura got fed up of the monotony of her own voice. It was rising midday, and she decided to take a break for lunch. Kenta and Ryo let Gaara loose from his chains and he stumbled forward, unable to support his own weight.

They laid him down on his bed, where he collapsed, his limbs floppy and his eyes open, staring at the ceiling. Sakura watched from the door. Her stomach was rumbling but Gaara’s need was far greater. He was severely undernourished.

‘Are you going to try and have some lunch?’ she asked him.

Back in the staff kitchen, Ryo was serving up. As usual, he prepared a plate for Gaara but none of them had the slightest expectation that he would eat it. Sakura volunteered to take it down to his cell.

It did not go over well, and she found herself minutes later trying to get the stain out of her new dress. If he ever recovered, she vowed to keep the time the Kazekage threw his lunch at her a secret.

Despite the fact she now stunk of onion, her heart ached for him. Lonely, malnourished and pathetic, locked up underground through no fault of his own. All his life, all Gaara had desired was to be loved and accepted. Through his murderous pre-teen years, his friendship with Naruto, to his tireless devotion to his village as Kazekage.

She felt enormous pity for the patient. But she was making progress. The afternoon passed slowly, without incident. The main character in the book began to open up to the people around him, his dog faithfully wagging its tail, beside him every step of the way. Maybe the story wasn’t so boring after all.

After she’d finished the chapter, she opted for a new approach. She decided she wasn’t leaving the unit until she’d managed to get some food into his mouth. Armed with the leftovers from lunch and a spoon, Sakura checked Gaara’s restraints were secure, before raising the spoon to his lips.

Sand rose from the ground and made contact with her abdomen, pushing her backwards. It wasn’t painful this time. It simply wafted her away. A warning? Or encouragement?

She stood firm. This was the closest he’d allowed her. As he turned his head away from the proffered spoon, Sakura found herself transfixed by his face. Delicate features, sharp cheekbones and those wonderful turquoise eyes. There were traces of the handsome man he’d once been.

‘Just one bite. Please? For me?’  
He stared at her, opened his cracked lips and ate. He chewed, as if the sensation was entirely new to him and swallowed hard.  
‘Well done,’ she said, her voice soothing, ‘See, that wasn’t so bad, was it?’

After two more bites she decided not to push her luck. She left Ryo and Kenta to carry him back to his cell while she waited at the door, watching until his breathing slowed, captivated by the steady rise and fall of his chest.

Eating. And sleeping.

It was almost cause for a celebration.

* * *

But she knocked that idea on the head when she saw the sour look on Temari’s face as she reported to the Kazekage office that evening.  
‘You’ve got onion in your hair,’ she said, as if it were a criminal offense in Sunagakure.  
‘There was a little disagreement at lunchtime.’  
‘Better to be covered in food than in blood.’ Temari said, as if she would very much prefer Sakura be covered in blood.  
‘I suppose,’ Sakura conceded, backing down from the verbal spar.

‘Kankurou was looking for you. He said something about wanting a bedtime story. I’m warning you, I know all about you Konoha kunoichi, but if you think you can get your hands on my brother – ’  
‘No!’ Sakura said, ‘Me and Kankurou? Absolutely not. He’s just being friendly. At least someone is in this damn desert.’

Sakura slammed the door and stomped out of the Kazekage office with furious strides. Honestly, _that_ _woman_. She was as prickly as a desert cactus. Okay, her brother was ill, but that was no excuse for her to be quite so objectionable.

* * *

As Sakura marched through the streets, fuming, all joy she felt after her victories with Gaara dissipated. She was fed up of the bloody desert. It was too hot – dry and arid and horrid. Even the air was difficult to breathe. The winds at night rattled the windows, the sandstorms stung at her skin. And she always, _always_ had sand in her shoes.

She missed Naruto, Kakashi, Tsunade-sama, Ino, Shizune…. even Sai. She missed being overworked and underpaid at the Leaf hospital. She missed the lush green grass, the dense trees at the training grounds. The babbling of the rivers and the cicadas at night. She missed mild evenings eating outside at Ichiraku’s ramen – catching up with Ino, Hinata, Tenten – those Konoha kunoichi that Temari thought she knew all about. As if they were all cheap floozies.

Sakura paced the streets, walking past more of the same round sandstone buildings. If it hadn’t been for the sense of pride she felt seeing Gaara’s progress, Kenta’s understated admiration for her skills, or Kankurou’s easy-going humour, she would have been well on her way out of Sunagakure, walking back home to the other Konowhores.

But Sakura wasn’t one to let an insult cause her to abandon a mission. To say nothing of the curious effect a certain pair of turquoise eyes had on her.

By the time she had calmed down, she realized she was lost. Every street in this damned place looked the same. Frustration mounting, she turned left and right at random, searching for a shop, a landmark – anything she recognized. She was sweating, the moisture pricking her skin and trickling down her back. It was horribly uncomfortable, like everything was recently – physically and mentally.

She rested her back against a wall on a side street, and wondered what exactly she was doing here. Kakashi – the Hokage – had sent her. Perhaps it was because she was the best medic in the village and the Sand was an important ally. Perhaps it was because he knew how she felt, how badly she had been coping. Perhaps it was just because everyone thought she was fucking annoying.

Work. That was all she did in Konoha. She’d felt upset when Temari had cast aspersions on her girl friends, but honestly, she hadn’t seen them in ages, not even Ino. They’d called, but she always said she was busy. Naruto dropped by her apartment every week but she often pretended to be out, watching through the peephole until he left. Obviously, he knew she was in there – he could sense her chakra, but it was part of their unspoken agreement that he didn’t batter her door down.

She stood and sweated and screamed internally. She needed to find a training ground. She needed to do _something,_ before she destroyed a building or caused an international diplomatic incident by telling Temari exactly what she thought of her.

* * *

By some miracle, the next person that walked around the corner was a ninja, a female chunin, who led her to the training grounds, chatting nineteen to the dozen. The young chunin recognized her, and Sakura felt rather overwhelmed when the girl told her she idolized her.

It was hard to get used to being a war heroine. All the actions that had caused her such pain and trauma, all the blood and destruction she saw each time she closed her eyes – someone else thought that was aspirational?

How could anyone claim she was the best medic nin when she had let so many people die? How could anyone call her the strongest kunoichi when she couldn’t even keep up with her team?

She wanted to scream, but she kept a bright smile on her face until the chatty chunin ran off to join her friends.

Sakura wanted to demolish a few trees, to really smash something up and destroy it, but at the training grounds in the desert there were only walls and targets. She let out her anger on the reinforced sand, only stopping when her chakra was depleted and she was dripping with sweat.

Exhausted, she stumbled back into the village and found herself in front of a drinks stand. She chose a giant iced sencha, practically the size of a bucket. As an afterthought, she ordered a second one and asked for directions to the puppet brigade headquarters. Fuck it. How was it that the Kazekage’s brash older brother had become the one person she was sure would cheer up?

* * *

‘Good grief, you reek of onions,’ Kankurou said as she stepped into his workshop, ‘And B.O. What the hell have you been doing?’  
Sakura sniffed herself discreetly and presented him with the drink. ‘Gaara had a few problems at lunch.’  
‘He ate? Finally?’  
‘Well, first he threw it at me. But later I managed to get something down him.’  
‘How?’ Kankurou put down the small screwdriver he had been holding.  
Sakura turned her head away, conscious of her blush. ‘I fed him.’  
‘Oh, this is just too good!’ Kankurou slapped his thigh, ‘The pyjamas! The stories! Feeding him!’

He gulped his ice tea and let out a satisfied ‘aah’.  
‘What a lucky boy. I’m sure there are plenty of men out there who would dream of being fed by a cute girl.’

‘Oh, shut it. What’s that you’re making, then?’ Sakura asked. Kankurou moved to conceal the project on his work bench, one that looked suspiciously like a stuffed toy.  
‘New secret technique,’ he said unconvincingly.  
‘Not a present for your little brother?’

Sakura took a seat and dusted off her skirt. She drank deeply from her takeout cup, happy to sit back and watch as Kankurou worked.

‘Your sister thinks we’re getting it on, by the way,’  
‘What?’ He dropped his tool.  
‘Me and you. You know… That what’s she thinks, anyway.’  
‘Um… Sakura, I’m flattered, but that’s not…’  
‘Oh! No, no, no! That’s not what I mean at all!’

For want of something to do, she reached for the puppet Kankurou was working on. ‘A tanuki? Really?’ she raised her eyebrows, ‘If I was a traumatised ex-jinchuriki the last thing I’d want is a toy version of my tailed beast.’  
‘Ok. I’ll make him a little doll with pink hair, then. I think everyone would like that.’

Sakura rolled her eyes at him and drained her cup, dropping it in the bin on her way out the door.  
‘Take a shower, you stink!’ he shouted after her, his voice echoing in the street.

Back at the apartment, Sakura washed and dressed in her night things. She was so tired that she dropped off easily, the nightmares barely disturbing her sleep.

* * *

In the morning, she woke up to a scrap of paper with the word ‘Sorry’ written on it resting on top of two bento boxes, stacked on the table next to her sofa. Temari was nowhere to be seen.

As she got ready, she found she was actually looking forward to getting to work. She wanted to see how Gaara was doing, what milestones they would reach today, whether she would see hope a flicker of hope on his face. In his eyes. Yes, okay, she admitted to herself, she wanted to see joy in that flash of turquoise. She was strangely fascinated by them. Perhaps because of their unusual colour, reminiscent of the ocean on a calm day. Refreshing. So different from everything else in Suna.

‘Okay. Time for breakfast,’ she greeted him, holding out the bento. ‘Your sister prepared this, so I know it’s made with love. Mine’s probably got stinging nettles in it. Do you have those in the desert? They’re nasty to the touch, but you can make a nice tea out of them.’

As she approached, a plume of sand rose, smacking the lunchbox out of her hand, where it landed wetly on the floor, spilling its contents.

‘Well, looks like you’re getting the stinging nettles, then,’ she chided, ‘You’ve only got yourself to blame.’

That was part of her plan. To talk to him as normally as possible. Not with an overly sweet, patronizing voice like Kenta used – well-intentioned as he was. Just a normal, soft voice. As if they were having a conversation. As if someone was interested in what she had to say.

She opened the other bento – identical to the first, Temari wasn’t petty enough to poison her food. Her second approach was slightly more successful. He ate a few bites.

The sand rose again, creeping this time, encircling her wrist, the one he’d broken only a week or so ago. It was still a little tender to the touch. She did her best not to flinch at the pressure. Sakura backed off. She understood. He wasn’t hurting her. He didn’t feel threatened, he just wanted space.

‘So, no more breakfast, then? I guess you didn’t like the nettles,’ she said with a small laugh, ‘Just joking. I would never feed you stinging nettles.’ She set the bento aside and cleaned up the mess.

‘So what should we do today, Gaara?’ she asked, ‘I can read you the next chapter of the book with the dog, or perhaps you’d prefer a different story?’  
She picked up the second book, turning it over to read the blurb. ‘I think this one is about a florist who falls in love with a customer at her flower shop. It reminds me of my friend Ino a bit. Her family has a flower shop. But Ino isn’t really the pining sort. If she wants something, she goes after it.’

She had deliberately chosen cute and boring books, rather than exciting battlefield adventures, tales of war and bravery, or biographies of famous ninja. Still, a flower shop romance seemed a little too saccharine. Sakura felt almost embarrassed reading it, but Gaara was still and docile all morning.

‘I’ll tell you what, if you can try and eat a bit at lunch, I’ll get the guys to let you off the chains. You can sit at the table this afternoon. Wouldn’t that be more comfortable?’

Good behaviour had to be rewarded, and Sakura felt it was cruel to keep him chained up longer than was necessary.

‘But you’ve got to promise not to hurt me, okay?’ she continued. Some of the cuts and bruises had healed, but she still had very obvious scabs and scars, visible even in spite of her clothes.

It seemed he was listening and understanding, because he did eat at lunchtime. Sakura begged Ryo not to make anything too smelly – in case the previous day’s incident was repeated but everything went smoothly. She was able to feed him several bites of rice, and he sipped at a drink through a straw.

Sakura babbled away. It was nice to be able to talk freely, without really worrying about how her words would be perceived. Naruto and Ino were both too loudmouthed for her to get a word in edgeways, while Sasuke had never been interested in what she had to say. And at the hospital, she was always on duty.

‘So the girl recognized me, isn’t that funny? I was so lucky to bump into her, because I got totally lost – all the buildings in this village look the same, don’t you think? Anyway, I finally found a training ground which was great because…’

Now she had a captive audience it was easy to get lost in her words. She liked to think Gaara was listening to her, appreciating what she had to say.

After they’d finished eating, the two guards released Gaara from the wall restraints and led him over to sit down. Both the table and chairs were bolted to the floor, and his wrists were still in cuffs, but by the way his shoulders relaxed backward into the seat, he was glad of the extra freedom.

‘May I?’ Sakura returned with a damp wash cloth and dabbed at his face, trying to freshen him up a bit by wiping the sweat from his forehead. There was a sprinkling of red stubble on his chin and jawline, and his hair was long and shaggy. The Gaara she remembered was always clean shaven and neat-looking. He would hate to be seen looking so scruffy.

She sat down opposite him. Although the table and chairs were set up to allow for interviews with torture suspects, Sakura sat casually, as if they were just chilling out together, or at a restaurant. Like they were on a date. She caught herself, suppressing that thought immediately.

Instead she busied herself with healing Gaara’s hands. His wrists were rubbed red raw and bleeding from where the cuffs had dug into his skin as he struggled. He flinched backwards as she activated her mystical palm technique, sand raising in a shield behind him. It fell in a crescendo, concentrating itself on her hand, bending her fingers back.

She cried out in pain and clutched her hand to her chest.  
‘Ow! Fucking hell, Gaara, that really hurt. What did I tell you about hurting me?’

She concentrated her healing jutsu on herself instead, mending the fractures in her fingers. Even though she could heal it easily, it wasn’t good for the same bones to be broken again and again.

She wrapped the injury in a bandage and sat with Kenta and Ryo in the staff area, feeling dejected. She declined the guys’ offer of a meal, or to help them with their puzzles, or to swap war stories.

She hadn’t the courage to step back into the room with Gaara, not while the pain in her hand was still throbbing. She decided to leave early for the day. As she walked through the streets under the heat of the sun, she let her mind wander. Was it worth it? She was taking one step forward, two steps back. Like every other obstacle in her life.

Why did she care so much about Gaara? He was severely mentally ill, he probably didn’t understand what she was doing for him, or how hard she was trying. And he kept hurting her. The strange thing was, the tightness she felt in her chest was more painful than the ache in her hand.

It was her own fault. She always got too invested in things.

She hadn’t the heart to report to Temari’s office, to listen to whatever snide remarks she had in store for her today. She didn’t even want to see Kankurou, not if he was going to look at her with pity, or make jokes at her expense.

Instead, she went to the training grounds and set herself up at the furthest free space, but it was pointless working out with a broken hand. After half an hour, she gave up, and wandered aimlessly through the streets.

She found herself outside the rooftop bar, and climbed the long flight of steps. So early in the afternoon it was deserted save for a couple of people eating a late lunch. She sat at a quiet table, ordered an ice tea and stared down at the village from her vantage point.

It was all so overwhelmingly dull and beige, the monotony of sand structures on sand streets, in the middle of a sandy fucking desert.

The sky was blue though, and a flutter of movement caught her eye. She followed the flight of a bird with her gaze. As she sat and watched, she realized she was sitting at the exact table that Kankurou had said was Gaara’s favourite, the first time he took her there.

* * *

**Gaara**

_Empty. Dark. Alone._

_Always alone._

_The pain echoed in his ears, too intense to form thoughts, too intense to even exist._

_He didn’t want to be alive any more. But somehow, no matter how he tried, he just couldn’t die._

_And here he was, alone in the dark again._

_He wanted to let his body shut down. To end his pathetic, wretched misery. He wanted to shut out the world, the pain, the torment._

_He knew he’d done something wrong, but he couldn’t place it. The feeling of having caused hurt to someone was so familiar. He wanted to say something to make it right, but his voice was cracked. He thought he would never have a reason to use it again._

_One word came to mind, one flash of colour and brightness and something so alien as hope._

_There was one thing he could see, one word he could say, his voice hoarse and breaking as he worked the sound out of his mouth._

_‘P-pink.’_


	4. A Swimming Pool and a Teddy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frustrated with her lack of progress, Sakura gets drunk at the bar. Gaara finally gets his new pyjamas. Teddy-kun makes his first appearance. 
> 
> Oh, and a load of angst. Enjoy! :D

**Sakura**

Sakura watched the sun cross the sky as the ice melted in her tea and the bar grew busier. As soon as she felt it was an acceptable time to do so, she ordered a cocktail. It was made with prickly pear juice – apparently a speciality cactus – and it tasted deliciously sweet. It was only when she started to feel light-headed that she realized it was strong in alcohol.

She looked up, surprised, as three large shadows loomed over her table. Kankurou’s voice boomed from above.  
‘Oh, looky looky! Who’s this out here, drinking all alone?’

‘It’s the only way I can put up with this damn place. It happened again.’ She held up her bandaged hand.

He ruffled her hair and sat down opposite her, accompanied by two other guys from the puppet brigade, each of them clutching a beer. One was average looking, save for his face paint, but the other was battle-scarred, with prominent injuries to his face, neck, and upper body. When he raised an arm in greeting, she noticed he was missing part of his hand.

‘Hey, I recognise you,’ he said, leaning forward intensely. ‘You healed me – you saved my life.’

‘Well, she didn’t do a very good job, did she?’ the other guy joked, ‘Have you seen your ugly mug?’

‘No, I remember,’ the guy with the scars continued, ignoring his friend. ‘I’d taken a blow to the face with a sword. I thought my time had come, but I stumbled into the med tent, and I just saw this blur of pink… My lord, I’d never seen such pain, so many bodybags…’

As soon as they got to talking about the war, old emotions started to rise. Everyone had a horror story to tell. Sometimes it was cathartic to let it out.

‘I remember every face I zipped into one of those bags,’ Sakura said. She swallowed thickly. ‘With every patient, I tried my best… ’  
She drank deeply, the alcohol scorching the back of her throat. ‘I just wasn’t good enough.’  
‘But you were amazing! So efficient, yet so gentle with everyone.’

Kankurou butted in, to tell the story of how they came to be friends, when she produced the antidote to Sasori’s poison, how along with Lady Chiyo she defeated the Akatsuki member. Sakura blushed. She wasn’t like Sasuke or Naruto – she felt embarrassed when people praised her openly.

‘You’re the one that took down Sasori-sama?! Do you even know how many top-class puppets you destroyed?’

The other two from the puppet division stared at her in awe, then both scrambled to their feet, offering to buy her a drink.

‘I must have been hallucinating from the pain though,’ the guy with scar said when they all had full glasses, ‘Because I swear on my mother’s eyes, I saw a pig carrying crates of med supplies.’

‘Tonton!’ Sakura exclaimed. As she told the story of Tsunade’s beloved pet, whose snout had the uncanny ability to sniff out debt collectors, everyone started laughing again.

‘I always thought Kages were supposed to be stiff and proper, like Gaara-sama.’

‘Not in Konoha! Our last Hokage was a gambling addict, and the current one is addicted to reading softcore porn,’ she said, to raucous laughter from the table. By bringing up her senseis’ flaws, she deftly changed the subject from Gaara.

Kankurou bought a fresh round of drinks, then his colleagues did, then Sakura, then Kankurou bought another one until the table was littered with empty glasses. As the evening went on, their voices grew rowdier and their constant barks of laughter seemed to be disturbing other customers. It was difficult for Sakura to care, though. She had to blow off steam somehow.

‘You know what?!’ she said loudly, slurring her words, ‘I-I need you to take me to the sw-swimming pool!’

‘You idiot girl, you’re far too drunk to go swimming,’ Kankurou said, cackling, as if it was the funniest thing in the world.

‘I need to go, though,’ Sakura insisted, ‘I feel like I’m going to drown in his ocean otherwise.’

‘Ocean? Whose ocean? What the hell are you talking – ?’  
‘ – How much have you had to drink?!’ The guys interrupted each other, each one shouting louder than the last.

‘His eyes… they’re like the ocean… So beautiful… Like nothing else in this god-awful fucking desert!’ Sakura slammed her fist on the table. ‘They’re perfection… It’s like an oasis. It makes me wanna dive in.’

‘Just like I thought!’ the guy with the scar guffawed, ‘Konoha ninja are such lightweights!’  
‘That’s funny. Temari thinks we’re hoes,’ she said, and then passed out.

* * *

The sunlight streaming through the blinds was painful, and Sakura woke up groaning. She was on her sofa, still dressed in yesterday’s clothes, with a splitting headache.

There was a large coffee and some painkillers waiting for her on the table, and Temari was sitting in the armchair opposite, reading a mission report. She looked up from her documents and almost smiled.

‘What happened?’ Sakura asked, dazed, her voice scratchy.

‘Kankurou had to carry you home from the bar. Apparently you wouldn’t stop going on about a swimming pool?’

Oh _fuck_. Sakura’s blood ran cold. How humiliating. She had a vague recollection of mooning over Gaara’s eyes for an embarrassingly long time. She clutched her head and instantly regretted doing so as not only was it pounding, but so too was the pain in the bandaged hand she’d just slapped against her forehead.

‘I guess it must be difficult being away from home?’ Temari stepped into the kitchen and returned a minute later with a plate of toast. ‘I’m sorry for what I said, by the way. About Konoha girls. It was really rude of me.’

‘’S’okay,’ Sakura managed. She bit into the toast gingerly, her stomach feeling weak.

‘You can have the day off, if you want. You need a break. It can’t be much fun spending all day underground with such a difficult patient, having your bones broken over and over again.’

She could do without the unexpected sand coffins, certainly, but Sakura really wasn’t finding working in Gaara’s unit quite that bad. She decided she would take it easy in the morning, but she wanted to make it down for the afternoon.

While Temari was in the shower, Sakura staggered into the kitchen for a refill of her coffee cup. As she rested her head against the counter, she noticed an opened letter, written in Shikamaru’s lazy scrawl. _Of course_. That would explain Temari’s sudden change in mood.

* * *

‘I was beginning to think you’d defected back to Konoha,’ Kenta greeted her when she walked into the interrogation unit at 1pm carrying a steaming bag of pork buns.

‘Sorry. I had a bit of a slow start this morning. I bumped into Kankurou and his mates last night. The guys from the puppet brigade can really knock back the beers!’  
‘Oh, bloody hell...’ Ryo said, ‘I remember a mission I went on with them to Takigakure. They got me so drunk I fell down a waterfall. They had to use their chakra threads to pull me out.’  
Sakura couldn’t help but laugh at the idea of the normally silent and mild-mannered Ryo making a spectacle of himself in a foreign village.

‘Anyway, you missed something great,’ Kenta said, ‘The Kazekage. He spoke!’  
Sakura’s heart leapt with excitement, even though she was disappointed to have not been there.  
‘Pink. That’s what he said.’  
‘Pink? Like my hair?’ She felt her cheeks turning that very colour. Kenta and Ryo exchanged a look.

‘I brought food,’ she said quickly, holding out the bag of buns. Kenta rubbed his hands together, and even Ryo tossed aside his puzzle book. After they’d eaten, she was anxious to get in to see Gaara.

‘Would you like a meat bun?’ she asked, after the guards had set him down at the table. Despite yesterday’s incident, Sakura wasn’t keen on the idea of putting him in the wall chains again. If he behaved badly, he could always be sent back to his cell.

If she wanted to make progress, she would have to take risks from time to time, but as Gaara’s first spoken word had been about her, she had to assume she was having a positive impact. Even still, she kept her injured hand hidden under the table.

She held up the bun in its napkin for Gaara to take a bite out of, and once again, she watched as he chewed very carefully and swallowed like it was almost painful. After a few seconds, he leaned forward for another bite.

‘So you like pork buns, then?’ she said with a smile. ‘Most people do though, so don’t go thinking you’re special. I found this great lunch place earlier when I was exploring the village.’

Gaara looked up at her as he chewed.

‘Sorry I didn’t come in this morning – I wasn’t feeling too good when I woke up. I was at your favourite bar with your brother last night – one thing led to another, and before I realized what happened, I was drunk off my ass and he had to carry me home.’

Gaara blinked slowly.

‘How embarrassing is that, right? But your sister was nice to me – for real this time. She gave me the day off, but I wanted to come and see you. Don’t make me regret it, okay?’

She screwed up the packaging from the finished bun, and sat back in her chair. She was managing to get some food into him, and perhaps she was imagining it, but he seemed to have more colour in his cheeks. He was still so thin though, his body wasted away and his clothes hanging loose off him.

‘I almost forgot!’  
She reached under the table for her bag and pulled out the pyjamas she’d bought at the market last week. She hadn’t found the right moment to give them to him yet. She chose the black pair first. Maybe it was stupid, but she wanted to keep the maroon set for when things were a little better. Maroon was totally Gaara’s colour. She knew he liked it. And Sakura was sure it was widely accepted that he looked good in it – not just her opinion.

She placed the folded fabric on the table between them. His hands were resting in their cuffs just inches away and he extended a bony finger to touch the cloth.

‘It’s soft, right?’ she smiled, ‘I thought that would be nicer than what they’ve got you dressed in at the moment.’

He was in his typical beige scrubs, a clean set every day, but still the same rough material. Despite being washed, they had faded dark spots on them. Sakura had been a shinobi long enough to know how difficult it was to get bloodstains out of clothing.

‘Oh… you’ll want to get washed, probably. Then get dressed in private,’ she said, pushing the pyjamas towards him. ‘I won’t look, I promise.’

The guards came to take him back to his cell. Sakura waited in the corridor while she heard the splashing of water as Kenta helped him freshen up.

She leant against the wall outside, listening. The more she got to know the guards, the more she realized how great they were. Ryo, the older and more experienced of the two was a low-ranking jonin but Kenta was still only a chunin. His diligence deserved some recognition. She decided she would put in a recommendation for his promotion. If Temari was still in a good mood.

The sound of running water had stopped, so she poked her head around, looking through the window in his cell door.

Gaara was dressed only in the pyjama pants, his hair messy and wet, falling onto his forehead, half-obsurcing his tattoo. She meant to turn away immediately, maybe even mutter an apology, but she found herself unable to avert her gaze.

He turned his back to her, following the sound of Kenta’s voice as the guard briefly unclipped his cuffs. Sakura caught a glimpse of the back of his neck, a few strands of wet hair clinging to it, a drop of moisture trickling down his back. She followed the water droplet’s tantalizing course down the length of his spine, until it was absorbed by his skin.

How was it possible that a person who lived in the middle of a scorching desert was so pale? Medically, she knew the reason – multiple vitamin deficiencies. But it was still a surprise.

His shoulder blades shifted as he obediently rose his hands to put on his t-shirt. Sakura watched those sinewy arms disappear into his clothes.

It became difficult to swallow, yet she was transfixed by the scene. It was an intimate moment that was entirely wasted on Kenta, who probably just saw it as another small embarrassment in the tragedy that was now the Kazekage’s life. Good grief, if she was the one who had to dress him…. The top was the easy part; she didn’t dare think about the pants.

Even though he was undernourished, with his ribs prominent, there was something rather enticing about his shirtless form. Maybe it was the vulnerability. Maybe it was just because she had never seen him undressed before.

His skin was pale and smooth and the network of his veins was visible, their bluish tinge standing out against his pallor. He had a scar on his back and another on his upper arm – which despite his ultimate defense, she’d been expecting (he was a shinobi after all) but also a couple of beauty spots on his chest.

That was unexpected. Sakura felt an intense desire to reach out and touch them, to memorise their exact location with her fingertips so that she could trace them through his clothes.

Realising how totally inappropriate it would be to run her hands over her patient’s nude torso, she took a step back, as the t-shirt fell into place, covering the sharp lines of his chest and stomach.

Having an interest in the colour of his eyes was one thing – not only were they unusual, they were also surprisingly expressive. Fantasising about touching his semi-naked body, however, was something else entirely. She rushed back to the staff area, slamming the door behind her. As the blush rose in her cheeks she contemplated how utterly messed up the situation was. It wasn’t appropriate for a med-nin to have those kind of thoughts about her patient.

Ryo was preparing food – he always seemed to be cooking something – despite the meat buns they’d only eaten an hour ago, and Sakura busied herself chopping veg for him.

‘Sakura-san?’ Kenta called down the corridor, and Ryo pointed her way back into the main room. When she reached for another onion, he merely raised his eyebrows at her. _Seriously?_ he seemed to be saying. As always, she had the impression that he knew a lot more than he let on.

Suitably rebuked, she retraced her steps to where Kenta was waiting for her, grumbling good-naturedly about his colleague. ‘Honestly, Ryo is such a slave-driver. You offer to chop one tiny radish for him, and before you know it, he’s got you roped into cooking for three hours. I swear, that man should be a chef, not a ninja.’

Kenta chatted away, throwing the door open.

‘Anyway, I thought you’d want to see the Kazekage in his new kit. He’s been waiting to show it off for you, haven’t you, Gaara-sama?’ he said, with a beaming smile on his face. Gaara stared blankly ahead, seemingly oblivious. Showing off had never been his thing.

As she followed him, she thought that Kenta should be an elementary school teacher, or work at an animal shelter.

‘I just got a little embarrassed because I accidentally walked in on him half-undressed,’ she explained, making strong eye contact with her shoes.

‘Oh, don’t be silly, you’re a medic. You’ve seen more naked bodies than the rest of us put together.’

‘Yes, but it’s unbefitting for the Kazekage,’ Sakura bluffed. Kenta looked at her as if he didn’t quite believe what she was saying, then nudged her through the door.

He was right. Gaara did look good. Very good, even. His hair was still damp, but ruffled up and pushed back from his brow. It was amazing what an improvement a set of nice clothes made. The beige scrubs had made him look washed-out and sickly, his skin the colour of a cadaver, whereas the pyjamas contrasted nicely – the black, the white and the red.

He was even sitting more comfortably, as if he appreciated the feel of soft cotton against his skin. He looked more like the real Gaara. He looked _good_. She was glad she’d bought the sleeved version, though. If she’d picked the singlet, she’d probably have had a nosebleed.

Taken aback by the intensity of her thoughts, she hesitated in the doorway, not quite daring to step into the room to continue her session with him.

A chef. A carer. And a perv.

That was the team that were apparently supposed to be bringing the Kazekage back to health. A foreign invasion could strike tomorrow, and Sunagakure would be done for.

It was so, so inappropriate for a medic to be caught skulking in corridors, lasciviously staring at a patient. It was completely against the code of medical ethics to fantasise about a sick person under her care. Her interest in the human form had to be strictly scientific.

It was her own fault, of course. Like always. Girls like Ino or Tenten could have a casual interest in a guy. They could smile if a someone complimented them, go on dates with an open mind, and forget about a man within a couple of weeks if things didn’t work out.

Sakura felt things more intensely. Her crushes always got out of hand. Sasuke had been so blinded by his hatred that he had tried to kill her, yet she still spent _years_ yearning after him.

She had kidded herself for ages that he had a soft spot for her – despite the crystal clear evidence to the contrary – that eventually he would see sense and love her back. Such a stupid, naïve little girl.

Maybe that was why Kakashi had sent her out of the village, so that Sasuke could come back to a hero’s welcome without being bothered by a pathetic little fangirl tailing after him. So that they could have a Team 7 reunion, without the dead weight. Hadn’t she always been the useless one?

And now, in Suna, she was becoming worryingly obsessed with a guy so traumatised he couldn’t even speak. Still – maybe silence was better than being told she was annoying all the time. _Fuck_. She pulled at her hair in frustration. When was she ever going to get a grip on herself?!

* * *

‘Feeling a little rough, are we? My sister said she’d given you the day off but I guess you just couldn’t stay away from him.’ Kankurou sauntered into the unit at the end of the work day, a teasing smirk on his face.  
‘I’m not really in the mood, Kankurou,’ Sakura snapped.

‘You know, I honestly thought you were just buying him pyjamas and shit because you’re a caring person,’ he said, mercifully out of earshot from Kenta, who was taking the night shift. ‘But you’re totally hot for my brother, aren’t you?!’  
‘Listen, if you’ve just come to make fun of me – ’

‘Nah, I’m leaving on a mission tonight. C’mon, there’s something I want to show you before I set off.’

‘It better not involve any alcohol,’ Sakura warned.

‘I’m a senior jonin of Sunagakure, brother to the Kazekage, member of the High Council and director of the Puppet Brigade – and you think I get drunk before missions?’

Sakura mimed bowing and tripping over his gigantic ego, but Kankurou gave her a playful shove. He led the way back to his workshop, where she sat in the spare seat as he prepared his puppets and scrolls, checking he was stocked up on poison and ninja tools. He hummed as he packed and tidied up, until his bench was clear, apart from a brown, fluffy object.

‘I thought about what you said – about the Shukaku doll. So I made this instead. He used to have one just like it, when he was little.’

He held up his finished project. It was a stuffed toy – a bear, with a hand-stitched, smiling face and two buttons for eyes. She reached out for it. It was nice and squishy and undeniably cute.

‘So you take the piss out of me for making an effort with Gaara, yet you’ve stitched an exact replica of the teddy bear he had when he was six years old?’

‘Yes, because my interest is strictly fraternal…. and I’m guessing yours is not. Which is a crying shame by the way, because since last night at the bar, I’ve had no less than three of my subordinates begging me to let them take you on a date. I had to break up a fight. One of them wasn’t even there!’

Sakura stood speechless. Guys did not fight to take her on dates. The only guy who had liked her in recent memory was Naruto, and that was only because of some stupid rivalry with Sasuke.

Kankurou wasn’t finished. He sat down at his bench again, and pulled out a makeup palette. As he touched up his facepaint, he looked at her through the mirror, the cheeky glint in his eyes magnified in the reflection.

‘But okay, if you want to keep pining over swimming pools, or oceans, or whatever bullshit metaphor your drunk brain came up with, be my guest. I’m obviously going to laugh about it, though.’

He snapped the palette shut and shouldered his pack.

‘I should have let that poison kill you.’ Sakura sighed as she snatched up the teddy bear. He saw right through her pathetic attempts to hide her feelings for Gaara, and instead of being weirded out by it he seemed to find the whole thing rather amusing.

‘Oh, and Kankurou. Thanks for getting me back safe last night,’ she said at the door. ‘Be careful on your mission.’

Then she held up the teddy’s arm and made it wave goodbye to him. He shooed her away with his hand, locked the workshop, and headed off to meet his team.

Sakura stood for a long time, holding the teddy and watching his retreating back.

* * *

What the hell was she doing? Was she mentally deficient? She was putting on makeup to see a patient. And not some cute guy with a sprained ankle, either. A patient with serious mental and emotional trauma, one who had pulverized the bones in her hand, caused countless scars and lacerations to her body…

Clearly, she was the one who belonged in the secure unit. Yet there she was, walking down to the interrogation department with freshly applied mascara and a teddy bear in her bag.

* * *

**Gaara**

_The darkness was all-consuming._

_Wake. Sleep. Cell. Chains. Then back to cell. Light for a while, then dark again._

_Time – if it was even passing – didn’t matter at all._

_Once, he deserved this. Once, the only thing keeping him alive was the joy he felt as he took another’s life._

_Now… Things were different now._

_Now he heard their voices. The voices of those who had died by his hand. Were there hundreds...? Maybe even a thousand. Enough, anyway, that the noise was deafening._

_Wake. And sleep again – a few hours, here and there._

_There was only one light source in his darkest hours. It went beyond electricity or simple candle flame._

_And it burned so bright. No matter each time he tried to put it out._

_He didn’t want to extinguish it. The urge to do so came naturally, like always. An automatic reaction. Smother, crush, destroy._

_It was more like a fire. The flames had been lapping around his feet, at the edge of his consciousness. And now the fire was catching. Minutes before the inferno._

_He had realized too late to put it out, and now the flames were purifying him, melting away every part of himself he hated._

_Through the hottest part of the blaze, the black heart of the fire, a silhouette appeared, female and naked. It walked unflinchingly forward. Unburned and approaching him, with open hands and eyes of emerald green._

_Maybe today would be the day he would let himself get burned._

_Maybe he was unworthy, and the flames would consume him._

_..._

_He blinked himself awake, the fire in his dream dissipating and leaving him alone in the dark again._

_He felt the heat of blush in his cheeks._

_It was her. She was coming for him._

_And for her, he didn’t want to be unworthy._

_His breath caught in his throat as he heard the bolts of his cell door being drawn back._


	5. A Sweet Tooth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sakura is FLUSTERED. There is a lot of hand-holding. And angst, because how could I not? 
> 
> Super-long, so I hope you enjoy.

Sakura stood at the cell door. It was Ryo’s day off and she’d been tasked with helping Kenta bring Gaara into the interrogation room for the morning.

Gaara was lying on his bunk, blinking and startled. The dark circles around his eyes seemed heavier than usual, his eyes half-lidded. His clothes were crumpled, and his hair was impossibly messy, sticking up at all angles. It felt strangely intimate to see him like that, all mussed up and half-awake.

He was breathing hard and there was even a little colour in the pallor of his cheeks. Sakura wondered if she’d interrupted a dream. If hers were anything to go by, it probably wasn’t a pleasant one, filled with memories of the war, of death, destruction and thousands of bodies.

Gaara blinked and took a moment to acclimatise to his surroundings, and it was a nice feeling to think the first thing he’d seen when he woke up was her smiling gently down at him. The antidote to his nightmares.

Oh, and Kenta’s sweet-natured voice in the background, far too perky for this time in the morning. 

‘Kazekage-sama, just look at the state of your hair,’ he scolded, clucking like a mother hen. ‘You must have been tossing and turning all night, you poor thing. Bad dreams, again? Don’t worry, you’re awake now, and we’re here with you. Are you going to be nice for Sakura while she sorts you out a bit?’

Sakura raised her eyebrows frantically at Kenta. What was ‘sort him out’ a bit supposed to mean?

‘Oh, it’s easy. Just help him get washed and dressed, comb his hair for him, that kind of thing. His brother mentioned at last night’s debrief that you should really get used to doing this for him. An integral part of the team, he said. Something like that, anyway.’

Kankurou was fucking lucky he was away on a mission, Sakura thought as she waited for the water to run hot. She would be having _words_ the moment he dared step back into the village.

It was difficult to wash and dress someone in handcuffs – especially an attractive someone, whose skin was surprisingly soft and cool to the touch, the lines of whose chest did weird things to her heart, and who had a perfectly formed beauty spot on the indentation of his collarbone, and another one just below his ribs. 

Especially someone who bowed his head towards her at exactly the right angle as she rinsed his hair, whose neck twitched very slightly as she grazed it with her fingertips – it strictly wasn’t necessary to touch him there. Just like it strictly wasn’t _necessary_ to lean in close enough as she lathered up shampoo that she could smell him. There was a slight tinge of the sweat she was washing off his body, of sandalwood soap, and something spicy, something uniquely him.

And maybe it wasn’t necessary to wash his hair in such a slow and gentle way, massaging his scalp and combing out the tangles one by one, trying her damnedest to keep her mind on the task in hand. 

How many patients had she helped get washed and dressed over the years? Wasn’t she meant to be a professional – to view the human body as a sum of its anatomy, just a collection of carbon and water molecules? Atoms that could be arranged any which way. What were the chances that his particular arrangement of molecules happened to be very attractive to her?

Kenta coughed politely as he finished up straightening Gaara’s bedsheets, neatly folding the blanket on top. Oh, good grief, she’d nearly forgotten he was there.

‘I said, should we let him stretch his arms out a bit? Are you going to be a good boy if we take your cuffs off, Kazekage-sama?’ Kenta cooed at him as they walked him down to the interrogation room and sat him down at the table. 

As always, Sakura thought it bizarrely incongruous – Kenta’s patronizing words combined with his reverence for Gaara’s position.

Sakura hesitated. She had to show Gaara she trusted him, but it was too dangerous. If he had free movement of his hands, he would be able to do a lot more damage. He was too unpredictable for the moment. 

Then she looked at his slumped shoulders, the hopeful look on Kenta’s face, and realized she had the fate of the Sand village on her back. It was a crucial step in his recovery. Sakura would have liked to have gotten a few more words out of him first, but whichever way she looked at it, progress was progress.

She nodded to Kenta to unclip the cuffs, then took a seat opposite the patient, a mild, open expression on her face. Maybe in a bit, she’d bring out the book. They were making good progress through the novel – the sweet little story about the lonely man and his dog. 

Slowly, as if the effort was exhausting, Gaara raised one bony finger and touched it to the centre of his forehead, tapping twice. He stared at her with something akin to curiosity.

‘Oh! My seal,’ Sakura said in surprise. ‘It’s pretty cool, actually. It’s a Creation Rebirth secret technique. Strength of a Hundred is what it’s called. I would show you but…’ 

A sudden rush of chakra might startle him into an involuntary – and possibly lethal – reaction.

‘…but then it wouldn’t be a secret, would it?’ she finished quickly, smiling.

Instead, she told him about the years she spent training with Tsunade, waking up every day stiff and aching from hours of taijutsu, chakra drained from learning new techniques, head spinning from trying to memorise constant stacks of medical textbooks. 

It had been some of the happiest times in her life. That feeling of accomplishing something, of finding her own strength and self-confidence. Of learning to rely on nothing but herself and her own skills. She didn’t have a tailed beast or a bloodline limit or the backing of a noble clan. She just her own efforts, and it was with pride that she had watched them come to fruition.

‘And what was brilliant, was that my biggest rival saw my progress and was begging me to train her. Me, daughter of lowly genins, running rings around the heiress of the mighty Yamanaka clan. Oh, it was such a beautiful moment.’

Sakura sighed contentedly as she sat back in her chair, the memory of Ino eating humble pie that day causing her to grin all over her face. Gaara watched her beneath black-rimmed lids.

‘And yes, I made her call me senpai. The greatest gift I could have wished for. Oh, speaking of gifts!’

Excited, Sakura stood up too quickly. As she vacated it, her chair making a loud creaking sound. Gaara flinched at the sudden noise and movement. His reaction was instantaneous.

The sand. Always the sand. It caught her on the upper arm this time, slicing through the fabric of her dress, the new one from the Suna market. The same one Temari had – but at least they’d be able to tell them apart now. 

‘Oh Gaara, no,’ she said softly. She put a hand over her arm to catch it, and the blood dripped through her fingers before she healed herself. She let herself bleed longer than she needed to, ignoring the pain. Just to show him actions had consequences.

His face crumpled. There was pain in those wonderful eyes, and the sand that had been doubling round for a second pass suddenly fell away. He had backed off. He actually stopped. He looked sorry.

Sakura fixed him with another reproachful glare, then turned her back on him.

Kenta put aside the book he’d been reading as she crashed through the door.  
‘Oh dear,’ he said when he saw the blood, ‘I really thought we were off to a good start today.’

It _hurt_ when he hurt her. Not the physical pain of the laceration – that, she could deal with. For a battle injury, it was so minor it was barely worth reporting. It would be healed in a flash, and all she would have to worry about would be the stain on her clothing. 

The tears that were pricking her eyes were for her wasted efforts. How was it that she could feel something so intense for someone whose first instinct was to lash out? Why did she always fall for guys that hurt her?

As she cleaned up the blood at the sink, she deliberately kept her eyes facing forwards, so as not to show her tears. Kenta merely nodded and pretended to read his book, and for that, she was grateful.

When she came back into the room with the teddy bear, there was a small pile of sand on the table, and as Sakura approached, she saw it was formed into the shape of a flower – a rose branch. 

Gaara looked at her from under his fringe, his head bowed slightly, as if he was nervous about how she would receive it. Sakura felt her heart flutter.  
‘Oh, that’s lovely, Gaara,’ she whispered, without really intending to speak the words aloud.

As she watched, the flower opened out, as if it were passing through the seasons, blooming, then the petals fell, one by one, disappearing as they touched the desk. 

It was a beautiful moment, but Sakura felt a faint wave of sadness. The flowers were beautiful, but the thorns of the rose were sharp. Every year, the seasons changed, and the flowers died. But they would be reborn again in spring. If the rose bush was looked after, each year they would come back stronger. And Sakura could tend to the flowers. She’d always wanted to have her own garden

Eager to reciprocate, she placed the teddy on the table in front of him, and carefully studied Gaara’s face. There was a momentary flicker of surprise and his eyes shone.

‘Isn’t it great? Your brother made it for you. He said you used to have one just like it when you were little.’  
She picked up the teddy’s arm and made it wave.  
‘I know you’re far too old for teddies, I just thought it would be nice to have a little reminder of happier times. Something cute to brighten your day.’

A single tear spilled over from his eyes and made its way down his cheek.

‘Oh Gaara, please don’t cry. I didn’t mean to upset you, I just wanted to cheer you up. I should have known not to bring something that would trigger memories of your childhood – how idiotic could I be? And your brother – well, I’ll just have to explain to him that it’s not…’

She trailed off, suddenly stunned into silence by the feeling of cold fingers interlacing with her own. She looked down in disbelief and saw that Gaara was staring at their joined hands too, as if he was unsure how they’d arrived at this station. 

His fingers were slender and bony, the skin pale and the flesh smooth. They weren’t fighter’s hands – Gaara had the sand to do that for him. In comparison, her own hands were smaller, rougher, pock-marked here and there with scars. And one of them was bandaged, the bones still delicate.

She should pull away. She was the responsible one. She shouldn’t be holding his hand like that. Pull away. _Now_.

She didn’t do it and neither did he. Instead, she let him trace patterns on her palm. The slight tickling sensation was exquisite, and Sakura found blush heating her cheeks. The touch of his hand had been slightly unsure but was growing in confidence by the second.

‘So, what are you going to call your teddy then?’ she said quickly, eager for a distraction.  
‘Did he have a name – the first one, I mean? Or was he just called teddy? I had a rabbit when I was little – Bun-Bun I called her. I’ve still got her somewhere, although I have to say, I’ve somewhat gone off rabbits since I fought Kaguya Otsutsuki….’ she trailed off, then forced a bright smile back onto her face. 

‘Anyway, I’m sure you don’t want to hear my war stories… or about Bun-Bun… how cringey am I, right?’ Sakura found comfort in her prattling. Almost as much comfort as she found from the weight of his hand in hers.

As his touch grew bolder, he drew a finger across the knuckles of her injured hand, and Sakura flinched slightly.  
‘Ow,’ she said under her breath. ‘It’s still a little tender.’

Then, as Gaara looked up at her and blinked slowly, withdrawing the finger in question but not letting go, she cursed herself for her word choice. Of all the words for painful she could have picked, she chose _tender._ And why did she have to whisper it in that weird, sultry way?

For want of something to do, Sakura cleared her throat and began reading the next chapter of the book.  
Throughout the afternoon, as her voice filled the room, Gaara sat peacefully listening to the story, never once leaving go of her hand.

* * *

‘You’re so good with him, Sakura-san. Even when it all goes wrong, you just keep trying,’ Kenta said as Sakura packed up her things.  
Sakura smiled. Eventually, she hoped the blush would fade.

‘When he’s better, I…uh, I hope you – I mean, I hope _he…_ Well, let’s just say I hope you don’t go rushing back to Konoha straight away. There’s not many that’d be as patient and gentle as you. And I…uh… I think the Kazekage needs that,’ Kenta finished his speech, looking a little flustered as he waved her off for the evening. 

As Sakura practically skipped through the streets, feeling lighter than she had for ages, she began to wonder if she hadn’t finally lost the plot.

Because she was feeling exceptionally generous, she stopped by a flower stall, almost blushing as she added roses to her selection of carnations and cosmoses. Was that how things were going to be, now? Was she really going to blush at anything that remotely reminded her of him?

When she was a twelve-year-old crushing on Sasuke it might have been endearing, but now she was a grown-ass woman, and her fantasies were _much_ more explicit. Who knew that an afternoon of handholding could lead her imagination to such places?

Trying to drag her mind out of the gutter, she made her way to the grocery store – where every vegetable seemed vaguely phallic and every man she passed seemed to smell faintly of sandalwood soap. 

Carrying her shopping, Sakura headed to the Kazekage office. The tips of a familiar set of spiky blonde ponytails were visible above an enormous mound of paperwork, and she found Temari furiously scribbling, her head bent over in concentration.

‘Knock, knock,’ Sakura said at the door. ‘I know you like flowers, so I got you something to perk up your office.’  
She presented the bouquet to Temari who sniffed it suspiciously, as if she expected some sort of trick. Satisfied that they were simply blooms, she let a slow smile spread over her face.

‘You about done? I bought some fresh ingredients – I was thinking of cooking tonight.’ Sakura held up her bag of veg (of the non-phallic variety). ‘As a medic, it’s my duty to inform you it’s not healthy to get takeout every night.’ 

‘Actually, I’d love that.’ Temari stretched her arms over her head and let out a huge yawn. Then she pointed to a cloth on the end of her desk, covering a plate.

‘But you know what? Great minds think alike. I can’t bake for shit, but I know you like pastries, so I thought…’  
Sakura lifted the cloth. Underneath was a huge platter of all of Sakura’s favourite desserts. She practically squealed with delight.  
‘What time will you be finished? I can’t wait to eat these!’

Temari sighed as she looked first at the clock then at her cluttered desk.

‘Let’s split the duties, shall we?’ she said, with a hint of a calculating smile. ‘I’ll be done quicker, that way.’ And before Sakura could protest, Temari slammed a stack of mission reports in front of her.  
‘It’s just genin stuff – D-ranks and C-ranks. All I need you to do is check that they didn’t all get themselves killed, endanger the village, or start another stupid war or something.’

It took a while to get used to the unfamiliar document layout, and Sakura started munching her tray of sweets as she worked.   
‘Have you got any genin who can spell the word ‘mission’? Or even Sunagakure? It’s only the place they’ve lived in their entire damn lives. Is this one written in code or are the kids just illiterate?’

She held the sheet out to Temari, who took it and turned it around twice before she was able to read it. She tossed it aside in exasperation.  
‘It’s a fucking joke, isn’t it? No wonder Gaara cracked.’

Sakura learned more than she’d ever cared to know about internal Suna procedure and the politics of the Land of Wind, but within an hour they were done and walking back to the apartment. 

Temari occasionally prepared bentos and snacks for her and Gaara, so she thought it was high time she returned the favour. Sakura wasn’t known for her skills in the kitchen, but she could make a perfectly edible rice stew. She cooked a huge batch, with enough for both girls for dinner, plus leftovers for the next few days.   
It felt strangely intimate, cooking for Gaara. It wasn’t something she did regularly for herself, let alone for other people. For guys.

‘So did you ever get to bang him, then?’ Temari asked as she laid the table.   
‘Excuse me?’ Sakura almost dropped her wooden spoon in the pot.  
‘You know. Sasuke Uchiha. You were always into him, weren’t you?’  
‘Um…’  
‘So that’s a no. Well, he’s missing out.’  
Sakura blew out her cheeks. ‘Thanks… I think that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.’

‘I’m not that bad, surely? Oh wow, you’re blushing! So you did?’ Temari burst out laughing. ‘How was it? I bet he was so arrogant – he wouldn’t put any effort in because the power of his clan should be enough to get a girl off? Right?’

‘You seem to have thought about it a lot. You ready to eat? I made loads.’  
As Sakura portioned out the meal, it occurred to her that it had been a long time since she had thought of Sasuke.

Temari complimented her food, and even Sakura had to admit, the stew was delicious after a long day’s work. They ate in silence, too worn out for much conversation.

‘You still get the night terrors, then?’ Temari asked as she picked at her leftovers, ‘It’s just, I hear you talking in your sleep sometimes – well, not talking exactly.’  
‘Screaming?’ Sakura asked, already cringing in humiliation as Temari nodded. ‘I’m sorry. For disturbing your sleep, I mean.’

‘Don’t be. It was a hard war for everyone. Sometimes I can’t believe…’  
Temari hesitated, as if talking about her feelings was a new and challenging experience for her.

‘I can’t believe how many people we lost, you know. Doing Gaara’s job just drives it all home. You really notice their absence. Who should I assign this mission to? I have a team that would be perfect – but, oh wait! They’re all in the fucking cemetery!’   
She slammed her fist on the table.

‘I can’t imagine what he must have been feeling, knowing he was regimental commander of the whole bloody shebang. He must have carried it all on his shoulders. I don’t blame him for trying to off himself, to be honest.’  
Temari sighed deeply, moving to the fridge, where she uncapped two beers, passing one to Sakura without asking.  
‘Anyway, we have to take the positives. You said Gaara was making some progress?’

Sakura sipped her beer in lieu of responding. She could hardly tell Temari that he’d held her hand, or that they’d got far closer than was probably appropriate while she was helping him get washed. She also couldn’t tell his sister what had really inspired Sakura’s trip to the florist’s earlier on – the strangely intimate moment she’d shared with Gaara over a sand flower.

So she opted for a fairly neutral update, focussing on the teddy and Gaara not following through on the attack.

Luckily, Temari nearly spat out her beer. ‘I’m sorry, did you say Kankurou made him a _teddy bear?’_   
She threw back her head and laughed heartily. And for once, Sakura saw her perspective only too clearly. She was a tough girl whose grip on life was occasionally shaken by the antics of a pair of oftentimes ridiculous younger brothers.

‘Oh, one last thing,’ Temari threw over her shoulder on her way to her bedroom, ‘Shikamaru’s coming at the weekend… so, would you mind, um…?’   
‘What, sleeping on the streets?’  
‘No. I’ll think of something.’

* * *

Sakura came in to work the next morning with a portion of rice stew for everyone and enough leftover sweets to make a medic ninja wince. She also had a spring in her step, her last un-ripped dress on her back and a twinkle in her eye that nothing to do with the fifteen minutes she’d spent in front of the bathroom mirror with a makeup pallet, while Temari banged on the door and moaned about needing to pee. 

Ryo’s reaction was to be expected. After only a couple of mouthfuls, he’d told her exactly what was wrong with the flavour profile of her dish (too bland, not enough spice blend, too much salt, need to sear the meat before you put it in the pot...)

Kenta, on the other hand, was softer. Sakura noticed he seemed to have taken up knitting – if the huge tangled mess of wool on his end of the table was anything to go by. He was frowning at the instruction booklet as he nibbled at her sweets, absentmindedly dropping crumbs all over the floor. He would probably be making a jumper for Gaara’s teddy bear, or a decorative wall hanging for his cell, saying something like ‘I heart Sakura-san’. 

Sakura wished she could hate him, but he was just so damn sweet.  
‘Well, I think it’s delicious,’ Kenta tossed aside his knitting instructions in frustration and focussed on chewing, ‘It’s so nice that you’re baking for him.’ 

‘I didn’t actually make that. Temari bought it from a bakery.’  
‘Well, I still think you should take it in for him. I’m sure he’d love to wake up to a sweet treat.’  
Was that the ghost of a wink she’d seen on his oh-so-innocent face? Sakura wondered how much that vile puppeteer had paid him. That would be just so typical of Kankurou – there was no reason that Sakura should miss out on being tormented just because he was away on a mission.

Though she was flushing a deeper shade of pink than her hair, Sakura nonetheless found herself face to face with Gaara at the interrogation room table, a pile of pastries in front of them.

She picked up her favourite and held it out to him between thumb and forefinger. He leaned in to taste it. As his lips closed around the sweet, she felt her heart lurch. Oh god, oh god, why had she chosen the _stickiest_ one to feed to him?

He looked up at her as he licked syrup from her fingers, his tongue lingering for a second, before he closed his lips around her digit and sucked it clean. It all seemed to happen in slow-mo, and Sakura wanted to melt into the chair, or curl up and die – ideally both. 

Why did it all feel so lewd? Since he was in cuffs and chains most of the time, Sakura had got used to feeding him, but as far as food courtship rituals went, taking a bite from a pork bun felt a lot more PG than sticky, syrupy finger sucking. 

The next item on her little platter was a choux cream puff. She’d had one already and she knew it was delicious. And he was still underweight enough that feeding him a pile of sugar and carbs was really, medically necessary. How could he be expected to gain weight if he didn’t get enough calories, the devious part of her brain – the part she’d once called Inner Sakura – asked her. Surely, she should be doing everything in her power to get him eating properly again?

Sakura racked her brains to think of a non-suggestive way to feed him something that would burst upon being bitten, oozing its soft filling.  
There wasn’t one. As she’d expected, the cream puff ended up a bit messy. Once he’d finished eating it, he had a smear of cream on his face, just next to his lip. 

Without really knowing what possessed her to do so, she wiped the cream up with her finger and looked Gaara right in the eye as she raised it to her lips. She hollowed out her cheeks as she sucked it clean, then released her finger from her mouth with a pop.

There was no point denying it. Cream puffs were fucking delicious. And her payoff for that bold move was almost as sweet.

Gaara stared at her long after every last morsel had been devoured, each in its own weirdly tantalising way. Just a faint touch of pink dusted his cheeks. 

‘Good,’ he said, swallowing thickly. His blush deepened.

Sakura beamed at him. Damn right that was fucking good. She felt like she was developing a sweet tooth. 

She cleared her throat, remembering, finally that she wasn’t being paid to sit around making weird sexual advances on patients, and reached for the book with the dog. Even after ten boring pages of canine slice-of-life, Gaara was still blushing faintly as he held her hand. 

* * *

There was a clattering of footsteps in the corridor outside the unit, and an almighty clamouring on the reinforced steel doors, which caused Ryo to toss aside his puzzle book, Kenta to discard his knitting and Sakura to sit bolt upright.

Gaara’s sand stood to attention too, the little he had access to. It formed a halo around the door to the interrogation room, posed for attack. He closed his fingers tighter around her wrist.  
‘It’s okay,’ she whispered.

Sakura heard voices calling her name and stepped out with her guard up.  
‘Haruno-sama of Team 7? The war heroine? The legendary medic?’  
There was a genin team before her, barely a day over thirteen years old, all trembling and bowing and pink-cheeked.

‘You didn’t come here to flatter me, boy, spit it out!’ Sakura snapped, immediately on guard. She brushed the powdered sugar off her dress as she followed the kids into the corridor.   
‘It’s Kankurou-sama, ma’am. He’s just back from a mission. He’s injured and it doesn’t look good! We were told – we were told to send for you as quickly as possible.’ 

It had to be bad if they were sending for her, and thus potentially revealing the Kazekage’s predicament to a bunch of underlings, not that the genins had seemed to notice. Maybe they just heard talk of the Torture and Interrogation department and immediately wet their pants. Or – if the mission reports she’d ploughed through last night were any indication – maybe they just couldn’t read.

Back in the main room, Sakura leaned in to Gaara.  
‘I have to go help your brother. He’s hurt. I’ll be back later. Be good for me, won’t you?’  
She ran her finger down the inside of his forearm, squeezed his hand and smiled at him.

After getting assurances from Kenta and Ryo that they wouldn’t eat all her sweets, Sakura ran after the genin team, all the way to the main hospital in the village centre.

From the reception area, she was immediately ushered through to the urgent treatment unit, where she spotted a hive of activity, Sunagakure medics rushing back and forth, hospital orderlies fetching and carrying things and machines constantly beeping.

Just like home. Sakura stepped into her professional veneer with ease but did a double take as she approached. On the periphery, sitting awkwardly on a chair and looking rather queasy, was one of the last people she’d expected to see here: Sai. 

His face was paler than usual – due to blood loss if his appearance was anything to go by, although there did seem to be a lot of holes in his clothing that would suggest an acid attack or contact with some form of corrosive.

Answering her questions before she could even voice them, a Suna medic appeared at Sakura’s elbow.  
‘Poison cloud.’ The woman handed over a briefing document. ‘Massive one. At the border with the Land of Fire. Insurgents, apparently. It’s still unclear how they managed it.’

Sakura skimmed the notes.  
‘We’ve got two Konoha ANBU and a girl from the puppet brigade getting their lungs declogged over there, but Kankurou-sama’s the one who was worst hit. The Leaf captain dragged him in.’   
The medic indicated Sai. 

‘Silly fucker kept breathing it in,’ Sai interjected, as if life-threatening gas was rather amusing. ‘I did manage to save one of his puppets, though. He was very insistent. I believe the phrase is ‘boys and their toys’?’  
Sakura blinked a couple of times. Sai was acting even more strangely than usual, which probably meant the poison gas was messing with his brain function, throwing his limited social skills out the window.

She rushed into the treatment room, where Kankurou was already hooked up to a ventilator.

It was bad.

He had corrosion burns to a large part of his body – the clothing on his right arm and torso was either melted away or fused to his skin. But that damage seemed rather secondary if his lungs were to give out. 

Sakura set to work. She started by removing what she could from his bloodstream, then used what she had extracted to formulate an antidote. Temari arrived while she was working and hovered in the treatment room, putting everyone on edge, until Sakura lost her patience and sent her out.

Less than two hours later, the antidote successfully administered, Kankurou came around. 

‘You sure do love getting yourself into these situations, don’t you?’ Sakura sighed as he re-orientated himself. ‘Poison? I mean, really?’   
‘Just like old times,’ Kankurou said woozily.  
‘You’re an idiot,’ Sakura told him, ‘Oh, and next time, don’t bank on Sai saving your puppets. You could have killed him as well as yourself.’

‘I’m just lucky he was there. Are the Konoha squad okay? I would ask about my own team, but I know they’re proud sons and daughters of Sunagakure – this is nothing for them.’

‘And yet, you, their esteemed leader, were the one who had to have his ass saved by a Konoho medic. _Again_.’ Sakura flicked him on the forehead. ‘Everyone’s fine. A bit of minor lung damage here and there. But nothing you won’t all recover from.’   
As soon as she turned away from him, Kankurou made moves to sit up and remove the vital equipment from his body.   
‘Don’t you dare, you dumb prick. You heard me, you’ve got lung damage, not brain damage. Besides, I need to have serious words with you, and I can only do so when you’re no longer at risk of death from coughing up a lung laughing…unfortunately.’ 

And with that, she breezed out of the room to deliver her report. Everyone who’d been involved in the incident was either stable or almost ready to be discharged, so Sakura could chalk up another success. 

Temari was practically wringing her hands in the lobby, and it was only then that Sakura appreciated how difficult it must be for her, to come close to losing another brother. Both their parents were dead. The Sand siblings only had each other. 

‘You can go and see him, if you like. He’s breathing with both lungs again.’  
Temari gave her a tight smile as she rushed into the hospital room, which Sakura took as high praise.

Needing some air after the complex procedure, Sakura stepped out of the hospital, intending to take a short walk and get a snack. It was only when her feet had carried her basically to the entrance of the Interrogation unit without her head having decided to go that way, did she realise that the one person she wanted to see after performing a draining operation, was Gaara. 

Plus, he would want to know Kankurou was okay. It would be cruel not to give an update.

Ryo was napping when she stepped back in, and Kenta was tearing at his ball of wool in frustration. Clearly, knitting was not as relaxing as it seemed. Sakura explained briefly about the poison attack, downed half a litre of water and shoved a pastry in her mouth.

Then, she stepped back in to join Gaara. His head jerked up as soon as he saw her.

‘Hey,’ she said softly. She could hear in her voice how tired she was. ‘Your brother’s okay. He got hit by a poison cloud near the border and Konoha ANBU picked him up. But he’s seriously wrecked his lungs, which I had to repair basically bronchiole by bronchiole, bit by bit. Exhausting…’ She trailed off, slumping forward at the table. Gaara looked at her, face marred with concern.

‘Sorry, what was I saying?’ she continued, each word a struggle, ‘Oh yeah, I used up basically all my chakra healing him and making an antidote. So I’m pretty tired. I got the job done, but I need to chill out now.’

‘It’s okay,’ Gaara said softly, and for the first time in a while, Sakura believed the words when she heard them. She leant forward on the table, forming a pillow with her arms, and rested her head. 

Gaara played with her hair, gently stroking it back from her face, and she allowed herself to be lulled by the soft touch, finally able to rest.

* * *

Sakura lurched awake with no concept of time or place. Her neck was sore and she was in a bright white room. But she was kind of comfy and warm and there was body heat nearby. It was a safe feeling, and when she inhaled she caught a trace of sandalwood, and something very tempting and spicy.

She was momentarily lost, until she heard the clink and rattle of cuffs right in her ear, and it was then that she realised she was essentially lying _on_ Gaara arms. And oh god, his face was right next to hers, and he was lying on her arms too. And they were holding hands. Not to mention the weird tangle their legs were in. 

He woke up and readjusted quicker than her, and Sakura realised she was still in the unit. She reached up to flatten her hair, and passed her hand across her face, trying to erase the fatigue.

‘What happened?’ she asked, with no real expectation of a response.  
Then, to her overwhelming surprise, Gaara spoke.  
‘It’s okay. My brother. Poison, you healed him. Then you were tired.’ He tried for something that sort of looked like a smile. ‘And I was tired too.’

It was the longest sentence she’d heard him utter, and Sakura sat gawking at him, momentarily dumbstruck. It was only then that she realised she was still holding his hand. She was slow to let go, slow to drag herself away from the moment they’d shared.

But she needed to check on Kankurou. As soon as she was compos mentis enough to do so, Sakura ran back to the hospital. Even though it wasn’t her official workplace, she was the one who had performed the procedure on her closest friend in Suna. She should have at least let the hospital staff know where she was. And instead of getting some rest in an apartment, on a sofa like a normal person, she’d elected to lie down on the table in the Interrogation and Torture department with her mentally traumatised patient, with whom she was desperately trying to resist having an inappropriate affair. 

The clock in the lobby showed it was coming up midnight, which meant she’d spent nearly five fucking hours passed out on that table with Gaara.

If she had the time, she would be marvelling at that, as well as him talking and holding her hand… Instead, she put everything that happened between them into a file to be dealt with later. 

Sakura didn’t think her situation could get too much worse, until she walked into Kankurou’s hospital room and he started talking. He was making a good recovery, that wasn’t the issue. And mercifully, the room was empty, save for Sai, who was in the corner, napping on the floor.

‘So…’ Kankurou started, once the pleasantries about his condition were out of the way. The way he said it, drawn out, almost two syllables, was already a warning sign. 

‘To pay you back for saving my ass, again, I’ve done you a massive favour. I told Temari I’d sort accommodation for you while she’s getting it on with Mr. Nara. I said I’d book you a suite at the Desert Palace – it’s the only five star hotel in the village. You should have seen her face when I told her how much it would cost – she almost shat herself!’

Kankurou laughed, wheezing into his breathing equipment. ‘Anyway, then she asked if I could put you up at my place, but I told her I wasn’t ready to take that step in our relationship.’

‘I fail to see how this benefits me in any way?’ Sakura said. ‘Honestly, you are such a dick. I would have loved to stay at a posh hotel! Where the hell am I going to sleep? Shikamaru gets here tomorrow.’ 

‘Well. You’ve got two options. You can either sleep in Gaara’s apartment – it’s not like anybody’s using it.’

‘Or?!’ she demanded. She could not think about that option right now.

‘Aren’t there bunks down in the unit? Don’t you think Kenta and Ryo deserve a few nights off?’ 

Oh god, the alternative was somehow worse. Sakura desperately tried to focus on the sick and the dying, rather than the graphic imagery going on in her mind. She leaned her head against the wall and prayed for forgiveness. Because she was definitely, _definitely_ , going to Hell.

* * *

**Gaara**

_His skin was burning. It had been for hours. All day._

_Since she’d… since they’d… He could still taste the sweetness in his mouth. The sweetness of the cakes, of her touch._

_There was an itch he needed to scratch. A different appetite he needed to sate._

_He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt so burning. So needy. So alive._

_He just remembered the feel of her fingers._

_Nothing more. Just her… The memory of taking her fingers into his mouth, of licking her sweetness…. It was enough._

_Hot with want, he allowed his own hand to trace down his abdomen, into his pants. Meeting resistance._

_He pictured her face as he grasped himself._

_The cuffs made it difficult. They made everything fucking difficult._

_But he deserved this. He’d hurt people._

_He was a monster._

_He’d hurt her. He knew he had._

_He had no right to be doing this, thinking of her._

_Picturing her sweet, innocent face as he writhed beneath his own touch. Not when he’d hurt her._

_He shouldn’t be doing this. It was wrong…_

_So wrong…_

_So…._

_It was her. All her._

_With a choked noise at the back of his throat, he came undone, spilling over his hand._

_‘S-Saku..ra.’_

_As he panted her name, he promised himself. He wouldn’t hurt her again._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Right, so in light of *developments* this fic will now be rated Explicit. Sorry for anyone who was following along so far who didn't want to read pages of sin. Not all of it will involve food, I promise. 
> 
> Also, I low-key love that these cheeky little guards who I just gave random names to make the story flow better have now taken on a life of their own. And their mission in life is to cause shenanigans for poor, poor Sakura.


	6. A Broken Table

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thirst and angst and progress. Lots of it! 
> 
> Hope you enjoy ;) ;) ;)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If this is too dirty please tell me, I have no idea

**Sakura**

‘Are you absolutely sure there’s nothing going on between you and my brother?’ Temari narrowed her eyes suspiciously.  
‘Which brother?’ Sakura blurted out before she could help it.  
‘Oh, you think you’re funny, do you?’

It was breakfast time in Temari’s apartment and Sakura was getting an interrogation with her morning coffee.

‘Only, he wanted to treat you to a five-star hotel, but when I asked him to put you up at his, he said it was too soon in your relationship for that kind of thing.’  
‘He told you we’re in a relationship?!’ Sakura spluttered, ‘That asshole. I told him not to –’   
‘You’re not leading him on, I hope?’ Temari interrupted.  
‘Trust me, that’s the exact opposite of what I’m doing.’

Despite working from the confines of a hospital bed, Kankurou seemed to be ruining Sakura’s life with surprising efficiency. 

‘Oh god, he’s not the one who’s being weird towards you, is he?’ Temari asked, as if it had only just occurred to her.  
‘Well, given that he’s apparently been saying he and I are in some sort of relationship then yes. I don’t know, would you call that weird? Cause I’d call it sexual harassment, personally.’

It was a bit of a low blow to throw him in the shit like that, but honestly, Sakura was finding the whole thing rather tiresome.

Obviously, Temari couldn’t find out about her and Gaara. Nobody could find out about that, because sexual harassment wouldn’t even come close to describing the allegations she’d face if people in the medical community were aware of her actions towards a patient. 

The whole thing was a fucking nightmare, and what was worse, Shikamaru had apparently managed to wangle a whole extra week off, which he presumably intended to spend in as close a proximity to Temari’s bed as possible. 

Kankurou’s apartment was overrun with Sai’s ANBU squad. Their lungs were on the mend but the poison’s effects on their skin were weeping pustules and blisters.

She could have stumped up the cash for a couple of nights in a hotel, but to stay for over a week would be a strain on her budget, and she didn’t see why she should have to go into debt over it.

She had three options: to force Kankurou to pay for a hotel for her, to stay at Gaara’s apartment, or to sleep in the unit.

Obviously, he would refuse to pay, and he’d probably hold a very convincing argument over her head such as – do you want me to tell Temari the real reason you don’t want to stay at Gaara’s apartment or on the unit? Which brought her back to her primary problem. Temari could not find out. So effectively, Kankurou had succeeded in his scheming, despite having been poisoned.

She had to stay at Gaara’s apartment. It would break her heart, of course, to be in such close proximity to everything she longed for yet couldn’t have. It would be horrible to lie between his sheets as the early sunlight streamed through the blinds, picturing his morning routine. 

To wake up alone in his bed, turning over and burying her face in his pillow, hoping his scent still clung to the fabric. Half-asleep, she could pretend that at any moment he would be back with coffee and something nice for breakfast. That he’d slip between the sheets, pass her the tray and feed her the first bite, his fingers lingering at her lips.

Or that he’d step out of the shower, skin damp and hair dripping, a towel round his neck as he gathered his clothes for the day. She’d call him back to bed very persuasively and make him arrive late for work with a spring in his step and a secret smile on his face.

It would be difficult not to give in to curiosity, to open his kitchen cupboards, scan the titles on his bookshelves. Would he have plants? Sakura thought he probably did – not something ostentatious and flowery, but probably a few low-maintenance cacti.

She thought his living space would be organised – clean without being fastidious and he probably kept the curtains and blinds open as much as possible. Gaara liked sunlight – which made his current arrangements all the more cruelly ironic.

It would be horrible to sleep in his apartment, to intrude upon his private space that would so plainly reflect the life he’d had, the person he’d once been.

But all that pain, all of that pining for what might have been would be preferable to spending a night alone at the unit with him. Because she didn’t trust herself.

Because something _would_ happen.

* * *

When Sakura arrived at work Ryo and Kenta were practically buzzing.

‘I’m finally going to be able to train with my kids. My youngest is getting good with her shuriken now, and my boy has just had his first few missions. I don’t want to feel like I’m missing out on their lives, you know,’ Ryo explained as he flipped omelettes for breakfast.

‘I’m leaving it to my wife to pick where she wants to go. Just think! It’ll be the first trip we’ll be able to take since the wedding,’ Kenta said wistfully. 

Sakura ate her omelette in confusion. It smelled delicious, like all of Ryo’s cooking, but the guards’ unexpected happiness reeked of Kankurou’s devious meddling.

‘Are you sure you’ll be okay here on your own, Sakura-san?’ Kenta asked, brow furrowed with worry. ‘It’s just, we’re making such good progress, and it’s so nice of Kankurou-sama to give us the week off. I’m sure my wife has practically forgotten my face.’

Sakura almost choked on her food. How was it possible that Kankurou had mobilised that smoothly while bedbound? That little shit. Of course she couldn’t beg the guards not to leave her, not after she’d heard the plans they’d made with their families.

What was Kankurou’s goal? Obviously, he was lapping up her awkwardness and humiliation. But that couldn’t be the only reason. Were there really so few missions available that he had too much free time on his hands? Maybe in times of peace he was simply bored. No longer content with pulling the chakra threads on his puppets, he turned his attention to the lives of those around him. 

Either way, she was pissed off.

He obviously thought she had much better self-control than she actually did. Clearly, he thought she was still the fawning little girl who obsessed over Sasuke, rather than a grown woman with complex and deviant sexual fantasies. If he knew what was really going through her mind, he’d surely be a lot less hasty to surrender his sick younger brother to her impure clutches.

Sakura looked cute and sweet and girly. She blushed easily and wore her heart on her sleeve. It was a double-edged sword. She’d had to endure a lifetime of being taunted and underestimated by mediocre men which made it all the more satisfying when the time came to smack them down. 

Kankurou probably thought she was innocent and prudish. That she blushed at the thought of holding hands with a man. She _did_ blush at the thought of holding Gaara’s hand, but that wasn’t the point.

Sexual and romantic desire was normal, wasn’t it? Still, she remembered her crush on Sasuke being a lot more chaste. Her blood hadn’t run hot at the thought of the last Uchiha naked. She’d viewed him with affection, rather than insatiable greed.

The only person she could think of to ask that might possibly understand was Ino. She certainly couldn’t talk to anyone in Sunagakure about it. 

Maybe it _wasn’t_ normal to spend a large portion of her day preoccupied with thoughts of running her hands through messy red hair. Or mentally mapping out the beauty spots on her crush’s body. Or wondering how his face would look between her legs. Or daydreaming domestic scenarios with him that mainly involved interrupting him while he showered or seducing him on the sofa.

Maybe she was going crazy. The desert heat must have got too much for her. She longed to see a forest, even a tiny one. Perhaps demolish a few trees.

When she greeted Gaara for the day she could scarcely look him in the eye. She found herself struggling for words, almost stuttering.

But if she wasn’t mistaken, Gaara looked a little uncomfortable too. He was so pale that even the slightest blush showed up on his face, and the light dusting of pink on his cheekbones was almost too much for Sakura. She longed to know what he was thinking. She wasn’t blind. The attraction was mutual. Which was both a blessing and a curse. They couldn’t just sit there, too embarrassed to speak all morning, but Sakura’s mouth was dry and every time she tried to say something, the words caught in her throat.

Finally, Gaara was the one to break the silence.  
‘How’s my brother today?’ He spoke softly, the words hesitant, as if his voice was scratchy from lack of use.

Sakura had been too preoccupied the night before with the poison attack that she hadn’t really appreciated that Gaara had uttered a full sentence. And now another one. Seeing improvements in their patients was all a medic could wish for, and Sakura’s heart swelled with pride.

Even his voice was sexy. Reassuringly deep, even-pitched, and somehow calming.

She gave him an update on Kankurou’s condition, which turned into a rather long and prattling rant comparing the operating procedures of Sunagakure’s main hospital with her own.

Gaara nodded, watching her. He probably found it exceptionally boring. In Sakura’s experience, most people’s eyes glazed over as she went over the finer points of medical admin and policy. But Gaara’s face remained open and interested, his eyes curious. She was explaining the benefits and drawbacks of using synthetic anaesthetic in areas where cultivating henbane and aconite was impractical, when the interrogation room door opened. 

‘Is she boring you to death? You poor thing,’ Kankurou popped his round the door, speaking to Gaara.  
‘You! What the hell are you doing out of bed?’ Sakura demanded.  
‘Discharged. The surgical registrar said I was fit as a fiddle. A remarkable recovery, apparently. I just need to go back to get my dressings changed.’

That was an obvious lie, and any medic worth their salt would have forbidden it, but it wasn’t Sakura’s hospital, so she had no authority. Instead, she accepted Kankurou’s offer to buy her lunch. It was the least he could do after all the trouble he’d caused her, she grumbled.

‘Gaara is looking so much better. You’re doing well,’ he said over steaming bowls of soba noodles.  
‘Yeah, no thanks to you,’ Sakura said bitterly, ‘Why are you doing this?’  
‘You clearly like each other, so I don’t see what the problem is. You’re perfect for him. You’re just the right mix of tender and tenacious.’ Kankurou paused for breath. His lungs were clearly still ravaged, and he shouldn’t be out walking around.  
‘Otherwise he’s going to have to have an arranged marriage, and he’d hate that. He’d do it, for the good of the village, but he’d spend the rest of his life miserable. I couldn’t bear that.’

‘Steady on. Surely Gaara could have his pick of any girl he wanted?’  
In a way, that was her worst fear. That Gaara would get better, everything would go back to normal and he would meet a suitable woman from a good Sunagakure family. Sakura, having reached the end of her usefulness would be sent home to Konoha. 

‘Not really,’ Kankurou said. ‘Women tend to be terrified of him.’  
‘But he’s the Kazekage. And he’s a war hero!’  
‘A very damaged one, who also happens to be a mass-murder and the infamous monster of the hidden Sand.’  
‘But Gaara’s not a monster!’  
‘Precisely. And you see him for who he really is. Which is someone sick and lonely who desperately craves love. Just like you.’

‘Cut it out with the bargain-bin philosophy before I really lose it with you,’ Sakura frowned. ‘I haven’t even got started about what you said to Temari.’

Kankurou played dumb, suddenly very interested in his plate. He coughed.  
‘It would actually help me a bit if you could perhaps pretend to Temari that you and I are…  
‘No way. I can’t do that.’   
He stared at her, making puppy dog eyes.   
‘I’m not doing it, Kankurou.'

‘Oh really? Would you prefer I tell her about you and Gaara? Which brother do you think she would prefer you were into? The vulnerable, damaged one? Or the well-adjusted, smart and handsome one?’ He began to laugh, but quickly thought better of it when he started to wheeze again.   
‘You wouldn’t!’  
‘I _so_ would. My deviousness and depravity know no depths.’  
‘Fine, you win – but you can’t just go around telling people we’re in a relationship. It’s weird.’

Having got that out of the way, Sakura only had to suffer through fifteen minutes of Kankurou’s teasing about her upcoming week with Gaara, before she finally lost it and dragged him by the scruff of the neck back to hospital.

Sick and lonely and desperately craving love? The absolute cheek of the man!

She stopped at Temari’s apartment and a couple of shops to make sure she had enough clothes and food for the week, then she walked the long way back to the unit, saying goodbye to the sun for a while. 

The guards were so antsy and excited for their break that she hadn’t the heart to keep them any longer, so she sent them on their way at three. But not before Kenta could fuss over just about everything – from food, to bedding for her bunk, to what she should do in case of an emergency.

And finally, she was alone in the unit.

She pressed her back against the wall. Why was her heart racing? Had the presence of the other guards really been the only thing keeping her in check? She had to calm down, had to think sensibly and remember to breathe. She counted to a hundred and back again, her heart rate slowing. Good. She’d lasted five minutes alone in the unit with him. Now she only had a week to go.

Gaara was sitting at the table in the interrogation room, his cuffed wrists resting on the desk. He was still and calm, the blush from earlier had faded and he was leaning back in his seat, relaxed.

Kankurou was right, he was looking a lot better. His cheeks less hollow, his eyes less sunken. There was more spark to him. He didn’t look bored or agitated, or unable to control his dirty thoughts. He was just sitting there, casual and patient.

As she watched, he raised his gaze and made eye contact with her through the reinforced glass of the doors. Sakura realised she was being very creepy, staring in at him as if he were an exhibit.

She shoved the door open, much harder than she’d intended and it smacked against the wall, the clang ringing out. As she stepped into the room, she was conscious of her every move, so much so that walking became challenging and she nearly tripped over her own two feet. With the chair in sights she swung herself into it clumsily, pitching forward and catching herself on the edge of the table.

Gaara watched, his eyes widening slightly at every jerk of her body.

‘So your brother gave Kenta and Ryo the week off, so I’m afraid you’re stuck with me for the foreseeable future. Don’t worry, I can assure you I’m perfectly content – I mean, competent, and I’ll make sure…. I’ll make sure – What I mean is, um. We can, just, you know…’ Sakura bit her lip to force herself to stop talking. God, she wasn’t even making any _sense._ If each moment was going to be this awkward, it would be a very long week. _  
_ ‘So!’ she forced a bright smile on her face. ‘About that book, eh?’

She reached for the novel, the tiny shake of her fingers belying her false confidence.

Sakura was a shinobi. Countless times, she had stood strong in the face of death, her Will of Fire and nerves of steel making her a feared force on a battlefield. A fight didn’t scare her anywhere near as much as this did. Surely, it wasn’t normal to turn into a quivering wreck over the prospect of being alone with an attractive man.

She muddled her way through a couple of pages, jumbling up words and repeating sentences until Gaara laid his hand over hers. 

‘Relax. It’s ok,’ he said, his voice soft.   
‘Sorry. It’s just… I’m a little nervous, is all.’  
‘Why?’ he said, with plain curiosity. ‘I won’t hurt you.’  
‘No, no. It’s not that…  
‘Then what?’  
‘It’s…. well, it’s…’ She gestured vaguely. How was it possible that it was going this badly? Sakura wanted to die. She literally wanted the ground to swallow her up. And all the while, Gaara was looking at her, a trace of concern on his face. 

‘Maybe I need…’ she trailed off and got to her feet. Then she ran out of the room, leaving him sitting there as his concern turned to confusion.

Back in the staff area, Sakura slammed her hand down on the table. It crumpled, shards of wood flying everywhere. It was a total fucking disaster. Not only could she not treat the patient, she also apparently couldn’t even be in the same room as him. For a medic, it was not a good look. Actually, scratch that. It wasn’t a good look for anybody. She stood in the staff room for a few moments, staring blankly at the wreckage of the table. She made a half-hearted attempt at clearing up the mess.

‘Sorry.’ She said, as she stepped back into the room. She couldn’t make eye contact, staring instead at her sandals. ‘Would you like to go back to your bunk?’  
It seemed like the most sensible idea. Then she could clear up the wood fragments properly and make them something to eat.

‘Sure.’ Gaara got to his feet. He followed her out of the room. As they walked down the corridor she was very aware of his presence next to her, just close enough that her shoulder brushed against his arm. She lingered slightly at the door, before shaking herself and turning away.

‘Stay,’ Gaara said. Sand encircled her wrist – not painfully, but with enough force to be persuasive. She stepped back into the cell, allowing herself to be reeled in, as he pulled her closer and closer. Only when they were mere inches apart did he let her go. 

He was a little taller than her but not by much. She only had to tilt her face up very slightly to meet his. Up close, staring right into his eyes, Sakura felt like her heart was about to explode.

She heard a slight hitch of his breath as he inhaled sharply. Her own pulse was racing, right up close to him, breathing in his scent. 

She could back off now, and still have some pretensions of her professionality. She should back off. She should….

She closed the gap between them, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt. She threw caution completely to the wind and found she was almost trembling as she pressed her face up to meet his.

Heart in her mouth, she brushed his lips with her own. A shy kiss, almost a question. 

If he was surprised, he didn’t show it. Instead, his lips met her with a response, pulling her in like gravity. She parted her lips for him, deepening the kiss and letting his tongue in her mouth, hot and hungry, as if he’d been waiting to consume her, to taste every last corner of her.

It was frantic, their lips slipping over each other, exploring. His bewitching, hypnotic scent and his mouth, his tongue… It caused Sakura to lose all sense of reality. As they broke apart to breathe, every part of her was tingling,

She let her lips roam over his neck, her heart hammering in her ears. 

He was wearing his black pyjamas, freshly laundered but already rumpled, the neck stretched out from where she’d pulled him close. She had one last chance to back off…

She ripped the fabric, exposing swathes of pale chest, smooth skin that rippled and quivered under her touch as she explored it, fingers shaking. She kissed her way down the length of his collarbone, tracing out the beauty spots with the lightest of touches. She wanted to commit them to memory. 

It was a shame to have ripped his shirt like that, but oh well, she’d buy him a new one – in fact at that moment, she rather thought she’d buy him just about anything.

Suddenly conscious that she was wearing far too many clothes herself Sakura untied her dress, let it fall open at the waist. She pressed herself close to him, feeling skin against skin, then slipped off her bra. In days gone by, she had been insecure about her small breasts, but seeing the way Gaara looked at them, she realised they were more than enough.

That his wrists were still bound in front of him was almost too much for Sakura – he could look, but he couldn’t touch. It made everything better, and so much worse. 

He was thin and fragile that Sakura was sure that if she was too rough she would break him. But the passion was too great, all those weeks of repressed feelings, every hour she sat with him, tension building between them. Of seeing his body and being unable to do anything – being unable to get him out of her head. 

She kissed him again, open-mouthed and frenzied. Their bodies moved seamlessly together, Gaara leaning into her every touch.

The cuffs and chains at his wrists rattled as he looped his hands round the back of her neck, pulling her towards him. She should unclip him. She should. But he was being so good. So very, very good.

And so very, very hard. She took solace at the fact that he was pressing into her leg, straining against the front of his pants. 

The room was hot, the air seemed close and with the press of his body against hers, Sakura felt like she was overheating. Was it this possible that she was already so turned on, that she was already slick with need? She stepped out of her underwear and touched herself, letting her hand roam. Remembering the indecent way he’d licked her fingers when she fed him sweets, she brought her fingers up to his lips again, so he could taste her. 

The noise Gaara made in response was guttural and probably involuntary – he stopped and looked surprised that such a sound had come out of his mouth

Then she pushed him back to sit on the bunk while she straddled his legs. The cuffs were digging into the back of her neck as she leaned down to kiss him again, hands all over his body, freeing him from his pants. 

She rubbed herself against him, teasing, and when she thought she could stand it no longer, she guided her hand to her entrance and slid herself onto his length.

Gaara moaned, low and rough, and Sakura couldn’t help but let a satisfied sound past her lips as well. As she called out his name, she certainly didn’t mean to whimper it, the noise coming out high-pitched and breathy.

He was a decent size – not too big or too small, and as she felt him slip inside her she wondered how she had been able to resist it for so long.

Beneath her, Gaara was breathing hot and heavy as she worked her hips. There was a sheen of sweat on his face and chest, the glimmer doing wonders against his pale skin. His eyes were fixed on her face, hunger swelling in the depths of the ocean. He was staring at her like he wanted to devour her.

And devour her he did. He captured one of her nipples in his mouth with an almost lewd sucking sound, then bit down hard, eliciting another pathetic little noise from her mouth - this time a needy whine. Oh, it was so filthy.

Now that he’d had a taste of her flesh, Gaara seemed ravenous for more. He licked the rivulet of sweat between her breasts, tongue flitting out of his mouth in a greedy and almost debauched way.

The passage of his tongue against her skin gave her chills, and at that moment Sakura craved to feel his mouth on her, to see what his tongue could do between her legs. But for now, she was more than content to feel his cock stretching her, to ride him, to try and find the exact rhythm that would make him cry out. To make the Kazekage come completely undone, to have him melt into her skin, calling her name.

Then he sunk his teeth into her shoulder, right at the base of her neck, discovering a tender spot she didn’t even know she had. And she was the one who cried out, quickened the pace of her hips.

Seemingly pleased with the reaction his mouth had had on her, Gaara planted hot, wet kisses on her neck and chest, occasionally biting down into pale skin. Each little gasp she let out, he seemed to thrust up harder, fucking into her and soon, Sakura felt every sensible thought leak out of her brain, as she found herself digging her nails into his skin as she reached her climax.

He followed not far behind her, finishing with a rasping groan. Sakura collapsed on his chest, breathing heavily.

‘Stay. With me,’ Gaara struggled for words. As if she could leave him.

The bunk wasn’t really big enough for two people to lie down comfortably, but Sakura made the best of it. They were sticky and sweaty, but she couldn’t bear to break apart from him just yet.

She turned her chin up to face him, lying across his chest. His hair was plastered to his forehead and she reached up to brush it back, to run the pad of her thumb over his kanji tattoo.

In response, he kissed her softly, almost hesitantly, as if they hadn’t just fucked so fiercely and desperately.

Then, he lifted his hands, lightly rattling. She’d almost forgotten he was still in cuffs. She’d just done it with a patient so disturbed he still needed to be restrained. The shame of it was unbelievable, but Sakura felt so good that for a tiny moment she didn’t care. 

‘Of course. I’m sorry.’ Sakura undid them and he stretched his arms apart, twisted them round a bit, then wrapped them round her, holding her tight to his body, as if he couldn’t bear to be parted from her for even a second. 

For a short while, wrapped in his embrace, Sakura felt safe and warm. She allowed herself to pretend that everything about this was okay.

* * *

In the shower, once the pleasant, glowing feeling had worn off and Sakura was confronted with the enormity of what she had just done, she bit down on her fist to avoid screaming. 

As she inspected each bite mark, remembering the passage of his lips on her skin, she realised that she wouldn’t be able to control herself. She couldn’t have this be the only time. She had opened the floodgates and now she wouldn’t be able to stop. 

Not now. Not now that she’d given in to her desire, bitten into the flesh of the fruit and realised it tasted sweeter than she could ever have imagined. With the juices running down the chin and her cravings so intense, how could she resist another bite.

And what was worse, was that she’d do it all over again in a heartbeat. She could never go back to pretending she only had a professional interest in him. She probably shouldn’t even be allowed to continue practicing medicine.  
She legitimately wondered if committing suicide might be the best way out of this mess.

Gaara stepped out of the shower and the way he looked with his hair wet confirmed all of her domestic fantasies – all of which seemed remarkably tame compared to what they’d just done.

‘I know you feel guilty. You shouldn’t. I wanted it even more than you did.’

Given how mad she’d been driving herself thinking about him over the last few weeks, Sakura didn’t think that was possible.

But she didn’t know what was going on in Gaara’s head. He was a complicated mix of easy and hard to read. Since he rarely spoke, she’d got used to reading his emotional state from his face. She marvelled at his wonderfully expressive eyes, at the almost gentle way he handled himself now that he was finally pulling through, coming out of the other side of his breakdown.

But there was a darkness to him that he wasn’t ready to share yet. A reversion to his childhood, where he was still that broken little boy, lashing out and yearning desperately to be loved.

* * *

Sakura was grateful that Ryo had left several boxes of leftovers in the fridge. She felt weak at the knees and far too distracted to cook. 

As she heated the food, she decided to leave sweeping the wood splinters for later. Nobody would be particularly impressed that she’d managed to break a table, but in hindsight it was the least of her sins.

Instead, she sat down with Gaara at the interrogation room table, where it had all begun. They ate in silence. Nothing needed to be said. In fact, Sakura still wasn’t sure she’d be able to string together complex sentences.

Even being away from him as she washed the dishes felt like a hardship, and on the way back she rushed past the counter where Kenta and Ryo kept their various pass-times. Puzzles, and novels, and shogi and the like. She brushed Kenta’s failed knitting project – which was a large tangle of wool – aside and found a deck of cards.

Playing cards was light, fun and uncomplicated. And also, crucially, non-sexual.

He stared at her as she shuffled the deck, his gaze making her clumsy. As she began to deal, she felt sweat pricking her skin. She was on fire, electrified as she watched his eyes glaze over again, the hunger back in them. 

Sakura really, truly and honestly had wanted to play cards. She wanted the thrill of winning, of watching Gaara concentrating over his hand, and teasing him until his competitive side came out.

Which was why she was only slightly disappointed when he grabbed her by the back of the neck and pulled her in close, lips brushing against hers, first gently, then insistently. 

The cards were quickly discarded, most of them fell to the floor, and she swept the remainder away as Gaara pulled her round to his side of the table, sitting her in front of him while he kissed her, nibbling at her lower lip. It seemed only fair to let him take control this time.

Then he pulled her hips towards him, scooting her to the edge of the table. He didn’t stop kissing her as he eased her onto her back, leaning over her. 

Sakura held her breath as he released her mouth, then ran gentle fingers across her cheek, traced her collar bone with his thumb.

His hands were making a thorough study of her body, as if he too, was desperate to commit her outline to memory. 

He lingered over aspects of her form that she found the least exciting. The things she perceived as flaws, proved to be of greatest interest to him. His fingertips investigating a scar, tracing the raised skin with the most delicate of touches. He cupped a hand round one of her breasts, dragging a nail across her nipple.

He paused as she inhaled sharply, then did it again. He seemed to hang on to every little sound she made, a sharp intake of breath or the ghost of moan – to each one, he listened then tried to get her to repeat it.

Then, with his thumbs digging into her waist and sliding over her hips, he peeled off her underwear and lifted her dress up to expose her thighs. 

He took his time, deliberately avoiding touching her where she wanted. Instead, he licked all along her inner thigh. She trembled at the sensation, the wet line turning quickly from hot to delicious cold, and then he sank his teeth into her skin, a whole mouthful this time, biting and sucking at the sensitive flesh.

Her shivers of anticipation turned to shudders of pleasure as Gaara finally buried his face between her legs and got to work on her… Oh, his tongue was unholy.

She curled her fingers through his beautiful hair, grabbing fistfuls of red, willing him to flick his mouth over her at just the right speed to send her over the edge. 

But Gaara wasn’t in any hurry. He feasted on her, each movement of his tongue almost achingly slow, as if it were something he wanted to savour. Only when she was shaking and gasping did he stop, propping himself on his elbows as he leaned over her, a hint of a smile on his face. 

‘Did you still want to play cards?’

Sakura shook her head.

‘What do you want, then?’ 

She told him. What was it about Gaara that made her feel like she could be so salacious, so direct in her desire? Never before had she laid on her back with her legs spread as she begged a man to fuck her, let words so lewd and dirty come out of her mouth.

And fuck her he did, on the table they’d spent so many hours sitting at, right there, in the middle of the interrogation room. It took all she had not to break it.

* * *

**Gaara**

_His heart was racing. Roaring. She was here, lying across his chest, her hair splayed around her, breathing lightly in her sleep._

_He didn’t dare move, though his arm had gone numb._

_Her hair smelled floral and sweet. Of plants that didn’t grow so far out in the desert. It evoked distant memories of visits to other lands, of the gushing rivers and dense forests of Konoha._

_One day, he would travel there with her. He’d walk through the lush grass of her hometown with her, see her cheeks flushed pink with laughter._

_He saw himself laughing along with her. Finally, he had something to laugh about. He could feel the wonder of the world._

_It was real. She was real. And she was here with him. He’d hurt her, but she was here._

_He felt alive again._

_In the half-light of his cell, he could make out the bite mark he’d left on her neck. He reached out to touch it, feeling the slight heat beneath his fingertips_

_She stirred slightly, her eyelashes fluttered, and he froze again, not wanting to wake her. Sleep was precious. Maybe tonight would be the night that he would get some himself._

_Maybe tonight, he wouldn’t close his eyes and see nothing but the corpses of those he’d led to their deaths._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Am I going to hell for this? Should I tone it down a bit? Was it really weird and cringey? I'm nervous about posting this chapter because I'm not really an explicit writer, I'm just trying something different.

**Author's Note:**

> Reviews appreciated! :D


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